


Space Oddities

by hisboywriter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:43:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisboywriter/pseuds/hisboywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The space oddities of Keith and Lance, where they themselves are usually the oddities.</p><p>AKA stories of how they hate each other less, but certainly don't fall in love (only they do).</p><p>~<br/>Part 5: Lance knew he was in trouble before it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is taken from the late David Bowie's "Space Oddity". Finding it fits these space boys pretty well.

 So maybe Lance wasn’t the most perceptive guy in the universe.  

This was, of course, provided that he was even humoring the idea. (He supposed he couldn’t be _too_ perfect, after all.)

Back at the garrison, more than one instructor had commented that his attentiveness could improve if he put the same motivation he had for flying behind it.

Whatever. Lance was plenty attentive.

Okay, so the Pidge thing was kind of a  big one. But could definitely pick up on plenty of other things, like always knowing exactly what meal his mom would be making from the distinct and particular clatter and pang of kitchen goods. Or the trajectory of an enemy and the heft of his gun to land a bull’s eye hit.

Or, more currently: Keith.

Deduction on aforementioned Keith: Looking kind of crappy.

Not that that meant Keith looked awful (he didn’t), but Lance was definitely not submitting anything in writing or verbal that Keith wasn’t hard on the eyes. Especially when there had to be ghosts haunting homes and space ships looking for their long lost 80’s haircut.

Today though there was this gray shade in Keith's’ skin, and the reflex to finish his breakfast before Lance was weak. Shiro had tried to get them to stop doing that from the get-go but their competitiveness had cemented it as routine by now, and the lack of it was just throwing Lance’s day off kilter.

“Kinda slow there, Keith,” Lance said, pointing in the direction of Keith’s plate. “Do you need someone to chew your food for you?”

The side-glare was on time, but Keith only made a grunting sort of sound and went back to eating.

Definitely weird.

But if Lance noticed, Shiro was already on it.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asked.

Lance snuck a furtive glance in time to see Keith’s shoulders tense. There was a clearing of Keith’s throat before he replied, “Yeah. Fine.” Then, after a pause, “Just slept kind of late.”

“You gotta take it easy from the training,” Hunk added, managing to both speak coherently and eat at the same time. “Too much and you can blow. Oh! Just like the engine, you know on that new model --”

Aaand cue Lance tuning out.

It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate Hunk’s enthusiasm. More often than not though, said enthusiasm spiked at the most ill-convenient times. Today it just happened to be dwarfed under...whatever it was going on with Keith. Heavy aura. Dark cloud. Something.

Not that Lance cared. Definitely not.

“I’m fine,” Keith said, but it’s only loud enough for Lance to hear.

 Lance pulled a face that told how much he believed that, and since he had an overall inability to hide his thoughts from showing up on his face (trademarked by Mom):

“What are you staring at?” Keith asked him.

 Lance prickled at the bite to his words. “Oh, nothing,” he said, making a point of looking away like Keith wasn’t worth the time before adding, “Just thinking how full of it you are.”

“Full of...?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re totally fine. Right.”

“I _am_. I can still fly circles around you,” Keith said.

“Please. You can’t even run circles around me.”

Keith smacked down his utensil. “Oh, yeah?”

Lance straightened in his seat. “Yeah. If you’re all fine and dandy, you’d have no problem with a little early sparring session, hm?”

"Lance-" Shiro started.

Lance jabbed his spoon in Keith’s direction. A glob of goo that had no right to be so brightly green splattered on Keith’s plate. “What? Can't we have some early practice? Or is that scarier than running for you, Mullet?”

That secured the next course of actions. Two glares, an ignored Shiro, and Lance and Keith wolfed down their meals before they were breaking away from the group. They marched out, steps quickening to ensure one didn’t get ahead of the other. Pidge had once remarked that it was a good thing the doorways left enough room for both of them to run out of at the same time or they’d get stuck.

Whatever Pidge was muttering about now, they didn’t hear.

The training room was no exception to the big enough doorways. No doubt the others would be huddling above deck to watch, all too aware there was little derailing Lance or Keith, and all but impossible to stop them when it was both of them. 

And much in tune with Keith’s personality, the pleasantries were long since cast aside the same way as their jackets were. Lance didn’t particularly favor getting his own clothes drenched from a workout, but if Keith could do it (and did, constantly), so could he.

“Let’s not make things complicated,” Lance said, taking up stance. “First pin wins?”

“Easy.”

It was a big talk, but the walk left a lot to the imagination. The way Keith took up his posture looked off already. It wasn’t that Lance was particularly keen on Keith (despite what anyone might think), but he’d been dragged to training enough times to know the difference. A little, anyway.

While the garrison had instilled a foundation of combat, the emphasis had been defensive-Lance couldn't care to remember why that was. Allura made it a daily ritual (torture) to remedy that now. To think Lance could finally put it to actual use like this instead of follow the regimen Allura or Shiro put on them everyday...

Lance smirked. Keith stared hard back.

Then, Lance rushed forward.

Keith’s eyes widened, and he stepped back. Avoided the blow, but less fast than Lance expected.

Lance went with the momentum and chased him.

Keith smacked his arm aside, stepped to the side. Not too fluidly either.

“Something wrong?” Lance asked, maybe with a little song to his voice. "You look a little off balance there."

Keith launched after him.

Of course, he had more training under his belt (and probably somewhere in that disarray he thought was a hair style) than Lance. How could he not, when the guy practically lived in the training room? Yet what Allura had once called discipline was borderline obsession if anyone asked Lance. They didn’t, but Hunk had a point earlier, and right now it was granting Lance an advantage he would not waste.

“You know, I always did have a knack for picking things up quickly,” Lance said. He whistled as he sidestepped, barely dodging what would have been a hard blow to his ribs.

No remark.

Keith scowled at the right times at least. He played the offensive (typical), his jabs harder and swipes faster after every quip from Lance. His breath struggled, coming out as grunts with each passing tick, or hitched when Lance dared to strike back at him.

On one particular right hook, Lance ducked and snatched Keith’s wrists.

They both froze, as if simultaneously surprised Lance had been able to grab Keith at all. The skin was clammy under Lance’s fingertips, his thumb just centimeters from feeling Keith’s pulse. The weirdness from earlier intensified.

Now that Lance had Keith, he could only stare at his face. This close, he saw the beads of sweat that couldn’t be from this sparring alone, noticed the lack of color high in Keith’s cheekbones from when he usually trained.

“Um--”

Keith’s eyes were no less fierce. He yanked at his arms, but Lance only tightened his hold.

“What are you--” Keith gritted his teeth, and looked like he was going to lunge forward and let the ship’s gravity do the bulk of the work. But when he pressed forward, his feet wobbled, the tremor radiating right up to his arms still in Lance’s grip.

Lance frowned. “Hey, are--hey!”

He staggered back as Keith broke free by swiping his leg under Lance’s. The blue paladin recovered in a roll (thank goodness to his pride), but Keith didn’t keep hounding after him as he expected. Standing straight, Lance watched as Keith stumbled back on legs that wouldn’t stay steady.

What little color remained on Keith’s face was draining, and when his eyes unfocused, Lance felt himself go tense. Somewhere above them Shiro’s concern echoed from the com, but Lance knew it wouldn’t help. He’d seen his share of fainting spells, and this---

Oh, hell.

Keith’s knees buckled. And down he fell.

Forever later, Lance would never admit he’d been quick to catch him.

 

**-x-**

 

Keith awoke in a way he rarely did: slowly.

Grogginess weighed heavy on his eyelids, pushed deep into his bones as he accounted for his limbs. The process was too slow for his liking, his mind just as heavy as he grasped at the present. It was elusive, because he couldn’t quite remember getting back to bed.

In fact, he couldn’t feel the presence of his sheathed knife under his pillow.

A noise sobered him up, and Keith’s eyes snapped open, breath hitching. He barely registered there was a body invading his room before he was struggling up, tense and hands trying to fist themselves into weapons.

But warm hands grabbed his wrists, hard enough to steady him.

“The hell you think you’re doing getting up like that?”

It’s Lance’s voice Keith recognized before the adrenaline waned just enough for him to see the other paladin. Maybe it was the fuzziness of Keith’s head but it looked like Lance’s eyebrows were furrowed, like he was wondering what kind of life Keith had to wake up and think immediately that that someone was going to attack him.

“Jesus, you looked like you saw a ghost or something,” Lance said.

Keith blinked, and then the dizziness crashed on him.

“Whoa, whoa! I swear I’ll shave your mullet off if you puke on me!”

Lance looked scrawnier than most to untrained eyes, but he had lean muscle born from training and natural height. Both of which he utilized now to bully Keith up and out of bed, half-hauling him like cargo to the bathroom.

It was a blur for the most part in there, Keith coming to when he was being helped out, Lance’s arm around his waist. He was dumped into bed with slow movements, with more care than Keith would think on another day was possible.

His eyes burned, so he shut them the instant his head touched the pillow.

“I’m fine,” he said, or tried to. It didn’t sound coherent to his ears.

“Oh, yeah, so fine you almost blew chunks on me? Some gratitude.”

Gratitude. That word rung strange in Keith’s ears, but those were feeling kind of stuffed as it was. And cold. He only realized how cold his skin was now that Lance had taken his hand off his skin.

Keith forced himself to crack open an eye. Even in this state, he somehow worked through his brain to note it was Lance here. It was Lance grabbing a glass of what thankfully looked to be water and not a colored liquid of suspect.

“You need to drink,” Lance said. It was authoritative, but without the edge of tease or spite that laid the groundwork for most of their competition.

And Keith was parched. He willed himself onto his elbow, groaning. For a second, it looked like Lance was reaching out to him, but the hand froze and lowered. The water was offered and Keith managed a few, small gulps with an unsteady hand.

He handed the glass back and watched Lance set it aside.

“Wha…”

Lance smirked down at him. “Overcome by my generosity? This has to count for major karma points. And general awesome points for Allura.”

Keith wanted to shake his head but it was too much work. It was even more work to ask why it was Lance here of all people.

“Jeez, will you lie down?” Lance swiped his arm out from under him, forcing Keith to lie back. “Do you want to pass out again? I mean, please do in front of everyone again.” Lance paused. “Do you even know you’re running a fever?”

“A what?”

Lance stared at him. “How the heck did you not die living in that cabin alone?”

“Why would I die…”

“Right. Never mind. You’re clearly not all there upstairs yet.”

“We’re...upstairs?”

Lance made a low sound and muttered something Keith could almost swear was in another language. He kept his tired eyes open, as if entranced by watching Lance move around his room. He could see his knife perched safely behind the blue paladin. Keith wanted it back in his grip. There was a distraction in watching Lance though, the way he dabbed a small towel Keith didn’t remember into a bowl. Methodical. Familiar.

Maybe it showed on his face because Lance glanced at him and shrugged one shoulder. “Done this before. Stop staring.” Lance turned his face away, but Keith didn’t know why.

“Done what?”

“What, you don’t have any siblings or anything that ever got sick?”

Keith didn’t, but all he could say back was, “I’m not sick.”

“I’m going to blame your fever for that instead of thinking you’re really that dumb. I mean, you are,  but hey.”

Keith watched Lance come closer, felt him gently lay the towel flat on his head.

“You’ve done this before?” Keith said, just above a whisper. His eyes wanted to close, but he was stuck on what looked like a sad pull to Lance’s face.

Lance made a noncommittal sound.

Keith almost didn’t manage to pull the memory of Lance’s ‘head hole’. Family. A big one. Even if Keith were in a state to make better sense of it, the concept was foreign to him. All of this was strange. Maybe it was a dream.

The towel felt like a blessing on his skin. He could cocoon himself in it for years.

“That’s...but--”

“Will you shut up? You’re going to get worse if you keep yapping and then I’m going to be stuck worrying if you’ll throw up on me that much longer.”

Keith must have been glaring (as best he could) because Lance made another face, and there was this twitch of his eyebrow that Keith was surprised he even noticed.

“Sleep,” Lance pressed. “I won’t shave your mullet off when you do, promise. Probably. We’ll see. Just,” he gestured, and then sighed, “Sleep.”

Keith did.

But certainly not because Lance told him to.

**-x-**

 

As Lance loomed over Keith’s sleeping form, he considered he might be having an epiphany.

Turns out the mystery of Keith was in fact, not all that much mystery.

And when Lance meant ‘mystery’, it was in that tone the same way girls would whisper to one another at the Garrison, a label misguided by what Lance now figured out to be a lack of socialization more than anything else. Whether that was a product of the stubbornness or vice versa, not important.

The important truth was that the rep Keith got was as accurate as was the recipient aware of it. Which was nada. Keith was, to put in layman’s term, hopeless.

Really, it was almost laughable.

And yet for all its ha-ha realization, it was moot. Keith was still a pilot, a chosen Paladin even, and that skill alone would have doubters swooning.

It unnerved Lance, and nerves were a delicate thing. A few frayed nerves and you had the foundation upon which stress could ripen, which in turn lead to crap sleep, which then meant (but was not limited to) bad skin.

Looking down at Keith now, watching him shift as his body worked out the fever should have been a victory. Or something that left Lance feeling chummy about himself, right? He hadn’t felt anything celebratory when he Keith collapsed, and felt nothing still as the idiot laid sick.

Well, Lance didn’t exactly feel nothing. But what feelings he did have were off-kilter. As if his annoyance toward Keith had ballooned over the course of their time as paladins, only it wasn’t annoyance. Just something like it that put Lance’s stomach in a twist or made his chest feel light and tight at once.

Something.

Keith shifted his head to the other side, groaning. Strands of his hair clung to his cheek from the sweat. On reflex, Lance reached forward and plucked aside the hair.

So of course that’s when the door hissed open.

Shiro glanced at him, his hand, and Keith.

Lance hoped his eyes weren’t bulging. He jerked back quickly, sitting up straighter than necessary in his seat beside Keith’s bed.

Shiro tilted his head, almost smiling. Or at least Lance thought so. “How’s he doing?” he asked.

 Lance cleared his throat, then shrugged. “Not dead.”

Shiro cocked a brow at him.

“What?” Lance held up his hands. “It’s something.” The look didn’t go away, so Lance sighed. “It’s not too high that we gotta dump him in ice or anything.Just have to take it one tick at a time.”

“Best we keep an eye on him then.” Shiro stepped closer, and Lance scooted his seat aside to let him inspect Keith. He did his best to not seem obvious as he observed the silent interaction intensely. Lance was still flip-flopping about whether or not Shiro and Keith had history.

“You know,” Lance said, “for all the super alien advances in technology, you can’t just stick a guy with a fever in that pod to heal him all up.”

Shiro passed him an amused smile, probably more for Lance’s sake. Allura had talked about viruses and how it wasn’t the same as treating external injuries. Though the pod could have helped, Lance had a thought that Keith would not want to be put in there.

“Guess we better not catch a cold then,”Shiro said.

Lance flashed a smile back at that. It left him quickly again as he laid eyes back on Keith.

“What about you?” Shiro asked. There were more implications tagged with that single question.

“Huh? Oh, um,” Lance blinked, because yes, he shouldn’t stay, though this was partly his fault if you asked (or didn’t) a certain glasses-wearing smartass. Yet what came out was, “I’m fine. Can’t leave him on his own. He might suffocate on his own pillow. Like a baby, that syndrome...”

Shiro raised both brows. “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome?”

“Yeah, that one,” Lance said, lowering his gaze. Man, he was not sounding as spunky as he wanted.

Shiro didn’t press him, but did give his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll check back, then. Thanks, Lance.” He smiled and paused before stepping out. “Oh, and...Allura has some choice words with you and Keith later, but she said she’d wait until Keith was better.”

“What? What did _I_ do?”

“The goading wasn’t necessary, for one.” Shiro lifted his hand, ready to count off offenses until Lance told him he could hear it from Allura herself later. Shiro gave him some kind of knowing smile, but left after that.

Great.

Lance looked back down at Keith, deciding it was mostly his fault. But the longer he stared, the less he thought of Allura’s wrath, and more his instinct put him to work. He never thought as to why he didn’t spare a moment away from Keith’s bed, or that he was probably doing more ogling than necessary.

He changed Keith’s towel, hesitated each time before brushing his knuckles to the other’s forehead. When Keith made pained sounds, or startled half-awake in a panic, Lance’s heart did the chest tightening thing. Keith would go quiet, and then repeat the process.

There were a few variances, like Lance refilling the bowl to keep the water at his disposal cold. And Hunk stopped by to offer dinner. Being who he was, he even brought Keith’s share though Lance knew he wasn’t in a state to sit up, let alone eat solids. He accepted it with thanks all the same.

His appetite wasn’t on par either. It was difficult to work up the stomach to try alien foods as it was, and harder yet in Lance’s current position. Somehow that equated to him seeking out Keith’s wrist, hand hovering over the paler skin. He was just checking a pulse. Nothing weird about that. Lance sucked up whatever it was that made him hesitate, and dragged his fingertips along the skin. It felt softer than he remembered it from their spar, the memory blooming more vividly the longer he held contact. Less cold now.

Then, Lance located the delicate patch of wrist where Keith’s pulse pressed into Lance’s fingertips. Steady, if slightly elevated. Rhythmic.

Suddenly, Lance’s eyelids felt heavy, and his mind felt like it needed a respite. He didn’t remember, nor would never admit, that he’d leaned forward too much, until his head found a niche in his arms folded across the bed. Fingers loose on Keith’s wrist.

At some point, Lance’s eyes fluttered open. Had he almost fallen asleep? He yawned and lifted his head, blinking bleariness out of his eyes. His fingers were grazing something soft, and a quick look confirmed the softness was Keith.

Right, checking the pulse. Lance rubbed an eye, remembering his last trail of his thoughts before he must have zoned out for a moment.

“How did you manage to survive all alone out there,” Lance muttered.

“Just did.”

Lance’s eyes snapped open, and he bolted upright. Keith’s eyes were half-lidded, but definitely focused on him. “Jesus, don’t scare me like that!”

Keith grunted. “Wasn’t trying to...Didn’t know you scared easily.”

Lance supposed that was sign of lucidity, which was good. Depending on who you asked, anyway. Hopefully Keith hadn’t been too lucid to understand Lance’s upper body had made itself home on Keith’s bed.

Beauty sleep was an impartial necessity, utterly indifferent to Lance’s plight.

But Keith didn’t mention it, so perhaps the remnants of his fever was favoring Lance right now. Gradually, he settled back down into his seat and said, “I don’t. I just wasn’t sure you were dead and came back as a zombie.”

“I don’t think zombies talk.”

“Have you met one?”

Keith gave this little frown, like he was actually digging through his memory. “No--”

“Exactly, and try not to become one.” A loud clearing of his thraot. “So, uh,...Just did’, huh?” Lance leaned further back.

Keith watched him, then turned away so only his profile was visible. He exhaled deeply before saying, “I almost never get sick.” 

Lance crossed his arms. “And when you did?”

“Just let it run its course, I guess.”

Hopeless was looking to be more accurate. If Lance was being generous, he’d slap a label of ‘lucky’ on Keith too. He could have gotten all kinds of sick living alone in a cabin like that, maybe from bad food or contaminated water whose course would have rendered Keith more than incapacitated. Dead, for instance.

Lance knew it was just Keith in that cabin, they all did. Squalor of a place it was, it had meaning to Keith all the same. Where Lance had seen crooked planks and cluttered corners, Keith had imagined the peace of the land, of its simplicity.

What Lance could make of Keith’s expression made him wonder if Keith was thinking about it now.

For some reason, it pulled at Lance’s gut and he blurted out, “I got a kid brother and sister. Got sick enough times, though they were less babies about it than you. Didn’t need nearly as much work.”

Turning to look at Lance, Keith either didn’t recognize the insult or bypassed it altogether. “Two younger siblings?”

“Older ones too,” Lance said. He clamped down on the memories of their affection, and the annoyances of family he would never trade anything for.

Keith was looking at him funny. Different than when the fever had a hold on him. It wasn’t a stink eye, but something Lance was reluctant to think was softer.

Then Keith said, “You’re a good brother to them.” A little pause, then. “Thanks.”

It sounded like a realization. Whatever it was, it hottened Lance’s face because it had the makings of a compliment. From Keith? It would be easy to blame that nonsense on their circumstances right now, so Lance did just that.

He had to clear his throat though and look away before saying, “Of course they love me. I’m amazing.”

He dared a peek over at Keith, who tried to roll his eyes. It aggravated his headache at best given by the sound he made. It tugged a smile out of Lance.

“What are you smiling at?” Keith was looking at him with one eyed pinched shut as he rode out the dizziness.

Lance blinked and thought quick. “Oh, just thinking how Allura will be very pleased at how well I took care of you. Girls love that kind of trait in a guy.”

“Even aliens?”

“I’m available to all alien beauties too.”

Keith shut his eye and dragged the towel over his lids with a moan. “Not what I meant.”

Lance allowed him a moment to collect himself before pressing the cold glass of water against Keith’s forearm. A slight flinch, but Keith gradually accepted it after willing himself to sit up. Lance’s hand did a stupid thing of almost reaching out (what for?), but he forced it still on his lap and made a point to keep it there until Keith was done.

As Lance set the glass back down, he felt the silence weighing between them. Weird. His tongue worked on its own a good portion of the time, but now it was feeling a little dry the more Keith watch him. The red paladin had settled onto his side, weariness under his eyes, but open they stayed.

Lance swallowed, blinked, and swallowed again. He opened his mouth, unsure what would fall out.

But then the door hissed open again, and the weight of the room dissipated.

“Hey, you’re up!” Hunk smiled wide at Keith, who worked a little smile (that was _not_ any kinds of cute) in return. “You don't look so great. Sorry. Oh, but, here, I brought something soupy for when you did. Or, well, something more liquidy goo than...gelatinous goo?”

Keith propped up onto an elbow, looking like he could use a spoonful. “Um,” he paused as if unsure how to handle a kind gesture, “thanks, Hunk.”

“Yeah, well, also kind of to warn you that Allura is just waiting for you to feel better to let you both have it.”

“Shiro said as much,” Lance said. Grumbled.

Hunk nodded, then glanced away, scratching the back of his head. He struggled with the smile on his face. It quivered as he said through a half-chortle, “And there’s one more thing.”

 Lance frowned. “Okay, what is it? Spit it out.” 

“I also came to warn you in addition that Pidge might, just miiight have snapped a picture of you. And Keith. You two.” Hunk gestured his hands at them for emphasis.

Lance shook his head. “A picture?”

 Hunk did a terrible job of looking completely innocent. “We...might have come in when you were both sleeping? It was kind of sweet-”

“Wait-what? But I wasn't sleep-” Lance’s jaw hinged open. No, no, no.

Keith only eyed his yet to be given food, the pieces of the puzzle only in Lance’s mind to make sense of the severity of their current situation. Or, rather, future situation. Pidge. A photo. Definitely not good things.

Lance jumped to his feet, shoving the tray back into Hunk’s arms.

He didn’t wait for a reaction, already bolting out of the room, Pidge’s name a shout bouncing as far as the halls could carry it.

Yeah, Lance probably wasn’t all that keen after all.

 **-X-**  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! Part 2 is almost complete, and is inspired by one of my favorite Voltron artists' works: [ thesearchingastronaut](http://thesearchingastronaut.tumblr.com). 
> 
> I hope you took some enjoyment from this. I am convinced Lance is an amazing brother and has taken care of his younger siblings.
> 
> Find me [here](http://hisboywriter.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thank you again for reading ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t the sound of a voice that had grated on his nerves, or dropped tacky lines. It was a voice Keith didn’t know what to make of.

**-X-**

Keith didn’t like attention.

Whether it was a pack of eyes watching him, whispers hushed behind his back, or the encroachment of his personal space, it was all unsettling. Back on Earth, it had been a side effect of his piloting skills made public, one he couldn’t cure himself of despite the wide berth he gave everyone whenever he could help it.

Then again, his rejection to social events and preferred use of curt words had only skyrocketed his popularity.

Keith didn’t get it.

But it seemed the curse of attention stretched beyond the Garrison, past galaxies and found him again in this crowding of pomp of floweriness that was not doing good things for his psyche.

A small planet liberated from Zarkon’s tyranny, and now a celebration in Voltron’s name equated to these aliens (Keith already forgot how to pronounce their name) huddling around him, sapphire eyes alight with awe and wonder. Unfortunately, they had locked right onto Keith despite his attempts to creep away to the farthest archways that opened out to gardens.

At least he’d gotten that far.

As one long-fingered hand hovered over his hair, Keith decided it hadn’t been far enough.

“Your hair is so dark. Lovely,” one purred. They all spoke with a tilt that was made for music, and had what Keith thought looked like flowers in place of hair lacing down elegant shoulders and long backs.

“Uh...thanks,” Keith said, reluctant to believe that word applied to him. Particularly when he was still roughed up from the battle. Though they’d been given time to collect themselves and buff any scuffs out of their suits, ‘lovely' was far from Keith’s current state.

And he’d taken on more scuffs than the others to boot. He had the ache in his back as a vivid, throbbing reminder.

“You were wonderful to watch. Such ferocity,” another alien said.

Keith cleared his throat when he stumbled over another ‘thanks’. He tried to look like he was very, very occupied with the large glass in his hand he’d been offered. Even the drink smelled like flowers too.

It didn’t help that these creatures were of a tall, if slender, race with just the right height to exacerbate the caged feeling he was getting. Paired with eyes as sharp as they were bright, and Keith had little means to duck away from them.

At least the others had been better off; Shiro and Allura both handled the attention with heads high. Hunk fared well, friendly as ever, more so when the food was succulent (and not goo). And Pidge had been more than welcome to inspect the plant life that somehow was also the planet’s technology. Somehow.

Coran was...Coran.

And Lance--Well, of course he was eating it up. Not that Keith was sparing him a lot of thought on the matter. Maybe.

“...you?”

Keith tensed, realizing he hadn’t registered a question. He lifted his head, blinking. “Um…”

“What’s going on over here? Must be pretty interesting if it’s keeping all your attention off me.”

It was a voice way out of tune with the melody of these creatures. The aliens around Keith parted to allow Lance entrance, admiring his appearance. Keith wasn’t all that surprised how much they fawned at Lance. Didn’t he moisturizer frequently and wear a face mask at least once a week?

Lance’s smile half-dropped at spotting Keith, but he managed to look amused. Or maybe he was trying to look suave. Keith had wondered on more than one occasion if Lance practiced expressions in the mirror.

“Oh, never mind. Nothing all that interesting here after all.” Lance grinned up at their hosts, earning himself a few, melodic chuckles. Keith frowned at him. “Anyway,” Lance continued, “as much as it pains me to leave all your beautiful sides, I think the princess was looking to speak to more personally with all of you. Maybe we can reacquaint later?”

The aliens hummed an acknowledgement, paying final respects with a light gesture with their arms Keith hoped he wasn’t expected to mime back. But as they trickled away, he felt the breathable air around him rush back into his lungs.

He looked at Lance and cocked his head.

“What?” Lance came over and took a sip of his own glass, “You looked terrified.”

“I was not.”

“Uh-huh.” Lance clapped him on the shoulder. “Anyone ever tell you that you suck at lying?”

Keith glanced back through the marble arches, then to Lance’s back. The blue paladin was actually steering away from the source of the party and into the gardens. Lance only stopped to peer back over his shoulder and say, “Are you coming or not?”

Challenge underlined his words. It was all it took to have Keith bristle and march after him. He caught up in a few, quick strides and matched Lance’s pace. Long legs and all though, Lance strolled with leisure, taking in the sights of the gardens. Only when Keith noticed he was glancing more at Lance’s profile than anything else, he turned his focus elsewhere.

“I wasn’t scared,” Keith said.

“Whatever you gotta say to sleep at night.”

If this was before, Keith’s temper would have chucked the remains of his drink in Lance’s face. Now that he wasn’t, did that testify to his feelings about Lance now?

“Like you saying we never had that bonding moment?” Keith shot back.

Lance paused, turning to fully face him. Keith still did not quite like that Lance of all people had height over him. “What? I totally did not. Okay. I did, but I took it back when you saved Blue.”

Keith broke the eye contact and continued walking. “Whatever you gotta say to sleep at night.”

“Hey, that’s my line!”

Keith didn’t know why, but he felt his lips twitch. He heard Lance catch up in less steps than it had taken Keith to catch up to him. But wherever their bickering would go lost itself to a breeze that whistled by. They both watched and listened to the way it swept through the gardens, ruffling up the sound of the whistling into something flute-like.

Lance sighed softly. It was not a terrible sound. “It kind of reminds you of Earth, huh?” Lance asked, and wasn’t really what Keith expected him to say.

“I guess so,” Keith said. He followed as Lance picked up their walk again.

What looked like plants, all twirls in the leaves and lush on top, glimmered as they passed. It reminded Keith of a winking star.

“It’s very...flowery.”

Lance snorted, but Keith caught him still with that smile.

“So....why are you not back there?” Keith asked.

Lance looked at him directly for a moment. “Huh? Oh, I get it. I forgot you can’t handle when I do cool things.”

“You looked like you were living it up with them.”

“I obviously came to rescue you.”

“...Rescue me.”

“Yes.” Lance whirled his head at him and jabbed accusingly in his direction. “Rescue, like when I froze those Galra that were about to jump you?”

He could have handled them fine on his own, Keith thought, and almost said were it not for the fact it had been another example of their teamwork. Albeit forced teamwork when Keith had delved snout first into the fray of Galra soldiers. But, details. Keith didn’t pay them much mind unless he was in the middle of the fight.

Admittedly, it took him a good mental pause to link that rescue to the most recent one. “Oh,” he said. “I was...okay back there. They just kind of all came around me at once.”

“It’s probably going to happen more with each blow to the Galra we deliver.”

“You seem fine with that.”

“I’m looking forward to all the declarations of love.”

Keith sighed.

“But,” Lance trailed off, which was enough to warrant Keith’s full attention. He raised a brow, expectant, but Lance was looking everywhere but him as he asked, “Your back...How is it?”

Keith straightened at that, feeling the very gesture yank at the tender bone and muscle, skin mottled with bruises under a quick bandage job he’d done himself.

“It’s fine,” Keith said, thinking Lance wouldn’t have even known to ask if Shiro hadn’t brought it up once they’d touched back on the ground in their lions. It had been Lance’s sharp shooting that had buoyed the worst of the attack on Keith.

“You could have gone into the healing pod, you know, right?”

Keith tired _not_ to imagine himself sealed in that thing for however many ticks it would take to repair the damage. “I’m use to it.”

Lance’s gaze fell on him. It felt weighted compared to the way he’d looked at Keith before, but its meaning was lost on the red paladin. If he had to wager, it almost looked like a sad pull to Lance’s face. Keith never did gamble though. Except maybe with his life, at least to the instructors who scolded him for it.

For a heartbeat, Keith felt something stir in his stomach the longer Lance stared. Then the eye contact broke, and Lance was shaking his head. Why, Keith didn’t know.

“Hey, aren’t you going to drink that?” Lance asked, picking up pace again and pointing. “It’s rude to only take it and do nothing with it.”

Keith trailed along, following Lance’s finger to the drink in his hand. Lance and his expertise (not) in ‘rudeness’ aside, Keith supposed he had a point. He sniffed the drink before taking a sip.

He made a little noise. When he lowered his glass, Lance was grinning at him. That, at least, was a more usual sight. Not that Keith was the one on the receiving end of that most of the time.

“Good, huh?”

Compared to the goo that had become a staple in their diet, this was better than good. Keith licked his lips and took another gulp. “Do you think they make it out of their flowers?”

Lance shrugged and picked up a slow pace again. “I don’t know if we can even call these the same kind of flowers we have on Earth.”

Keith watched the plants sparkle past them. Inlaid in the foreground were sprouts that Keith swore gave chime as tiny as they were with each sway.

“Hard to imagine now that not a day ago this place was taken over by Zarkon’s forces,” Keith said.

“Yeah. Seeing how happy they are now,” Lance started to trail off again, his voice a little quieter. His head perked up, his steps picking up. Keith wasn’t so much as surprised by that as he was by his own legs hurrying after him.

Nearby, a tune filtered through the thick groves of flowers that had amassed themselves into tree-look-a-likes. Lance flashed him a smile, eyebrows wiggling, before directing them straight for it.

The music gradually swelled with each of their steps. Keith could pick up instruments, similar to those that had been playing back at the heart of the festivities. Here, the sounds were less jubilant, almost mellow. An alien voice drifted in, high and sweet.

In a clearing that lay flat adjacent to a small body of water, they found the musicians and a collection of observers, mostly little ones. All bright eyes landed on them the moment they came in, but Lance gave this kind of smiling nod that translated silently to mean the music should not suspend on their behalf.

It didn’t, and a few of the children waved them over. Lance didn’t so much as hesitate to maneuver himself amongst them in the front. Keith, however, lingered behind, holding his glass tightly in silence. He noticed the way Lance’s eyes alighted at the sight of one of the musicians holding an instrument lined with strings.

Typical.

But, as the music continued, Keith didn’t exactly dislike it. In fact, it was...nice, so unlike how he was feeling moments ago. His eyes drifted past the musicians, landing on Lance briefly again. The blue paladin’s eyes were still trained on the alien.

Somehow, it was more relaxing to watch Lance than the musicians. He’d get this little sway to his head, barely, and you’d think he knew this foreign piece of music. On multiple occasions Lance hummed his good moods, and Hunk had even made a comment about Lance thinking he was a rockstar in the shower one time. Keith never did investigate when or where that had come to take place.

To Keith, this seemed different.

Maybe Lance’s staring was a little obvious: at some point, the musician with the string instrument smiled at Lance’s way and beckoned. Lance did, because why wouldn’t he crawl over to something he found beautiful?

The same alien then curled a long finger at Keith, who blinked dumbly in surprise. At the coaxing of the alien kids, he eventually navigated closer too.

One child found his hand along the way, and stayed attached even as he settled down between Lance and the water. He placed his glass next to Lance’s on the ground, watching the way the musician was handing off the instrument to Lance. It seemed like a bad idea, but Keith didn’t say anything, not when the music continued and Lance looked...the way he looked now.

He handled the instrument with more care than Keith expected of his now gloveless hands. By the weight of it in Lance’s arms, in his lap, it looked right at home. Keith leaned slightly to get a better view of Lance plucking one string, then the next, each note distinct from its brethren.

And then, as if they’d been playing this entire time, Lance’s fingers danced.

Deep and high, methodic and simple. Testing the way each tweak of the string shifted the song. A few more in tandem, then some more, and a little more, until Keith could not tell you where the beginning of it had started.

The other pieces of the music weaved around the strings, blending with it, reflecting off it. Keith’s eyes stayed on Lance’s fingers as they grazed and plucked the strings, far more nimble than Keith remembered them feeling against his shoulder earlier. They ghosted over notes Keith didn’t know, and if they were drawn out by an amateur, Keith couldn’t tell.

Keith’s gaze drifted higher up, taking in Lance’s profile. The blue paladin wasn’t looking at any alien now, beautiful or not. No lines creased his brows or pushed his lips into a smirk. Keith didn’t know what to label it as, but it reminded him of his cabin back in the desert. It tickled him somewhere deep in his chest.

The singer rejoined in a tongue that needed no universal translation. Keith thought he understood the resonance of Lance’s deep notes, and the pitch of the higher ones when a little joy bounced off the strings.

To Keith’s untrained ear, it sounded as if the leaves overhead sighed along. Maybe the planet only now could rejoice in music because of their renewed freedom. Keith wondered if under Zarkon’s fist the world had clamored up all its misery into a cacophony.

It was difficult to imagine anything other than what its harmony was right now, with Lance at its heart. A soft heat at Keith’s side.

And then came Lance’s voice.

The sound melted into Keith’s bones. It wasn’t the sound of a voice that had grated on his nerves, or dropped tacky lines. It was a voice Keith didn’t know what to make of. The tickle returned, renewed, the feeling extending up as a warmth into Keith’s cheeks. His heart jumped. Maybe the drink had done something to him.

Lance sang, low and sweet. Even when his voice petered out at the very end and his fingers quieted over the instrument, the melody carried on like an echo that was forever recoded into Keith.

Keith didn’t really process the aftermath of the aliens swooning over Lance, or the sound of some kind of gong that called the aliens back to the citadel. They were leaving them with few words, all nice things, but Keith didn’t hear any of it. He sobered up as the alien child at his side squeezed his arm before trailing after the adults.

Keith examined his drink, finding it almost drained. His face felt flushed.

Lance was already standing up. He exhaled, stretching arms high up. “Guess they’re calling us all back. Hey. Hello? You coming?”

Keith stayed put, gazing up at Lance. He’d just learned tidbits about the blue paladin, layers he wouldn’t have thought able to survive in such a shallow personality.

“You can play,” Keith said. Not that intelligently. “And sing.” Less intelligently.

Lance blinked rapidly, like it was the first time he was on the nice end of a compliment. He cleared his throat and turned his head away before Keith could confirm he’d gotten a pink glow to his cheeks.

“Yeah, so? Girls love a guy that can play guitar. Or...whatever is closest to being one.”

“They do?”

“Uh, yeah? There’s a whole word for that. Serenading.”

“Do you attribute any skill you have to girls liking a guy that have it?”

“It worked for my sister.”

Keith narrowed an eye at him, unsure if he understood exactly the implications of that line. It was something else that caught his interest. “Your sister...she taught you?”

Lance shrugged one shoulder, crouching to pick up his drink. He fidgeted more, from foot to foot, balancing the empty glass between his fingers. Fingers that Keith’s eyes fell back to more than twice.

“Yeah, my eldest sister can,” Lance finally said.  “She’s got a real talent for that kind of thing. She can play like, five instruments.” He inhaled and surveyed the planet, the instruments left comfortably behind until their owners returned. “She would have loved this kind of place.”

“Oh.”

Keith peered down again into his drink. Neither of them had to unearth the long buried discussion of returning ‘home’. There would be no home if they didn’t do what they now did.

"Lance-" Keith lifted his head, but the words were lost in his mind. Or maybe they weren't there to begin with. What was he going to say? His face felt hot and he was gripping the glass harder than necessary. But he couldn't let the name trail off his tongue like that. "...Here."

Gradually, Keith raised his drink. Lance noticed the gesture and raised a well groomed brow.

“To more victories,” Keith said. When Lance kept staring, he frowned. “It’s a toast.” It wasn't what he wanted to say, or do, but Keith doesn't even think _he_ knew what he wanted.

Lance looked down at his own glass, then smiled in that cocky way before he mirrored the act. “Alright. I’m down for that. To kicking more Galra butt.”

They didn’t clink their glasses. In one gulp, they both drained the contents. Maybe there was something in the drink, but Keith didn’t care. He inhaled deeply, ears picking up the little chimes, mind replaying the sounds of Lance’s music.

“I think I’ll stay here. Just a little longer.”

Lance scratched the back of his head at that. He didn’t pester Keith for his decision. Rather, he lowered back down beside Keith, his drink replaced with the body of the instrument. Keith didn’t say anything about him staying behind. But he felt something in his gut twist when Lance scooted closer so their knees bumped.

“Any requests?” Lance teased, smirk growing as he strummed a few strings and sang half a chorus in Keith’s direction.

Each note struck deep in parts of Keith he didn’t know he had. He tensed, heat washing up his neck and face. He lifted his hand and angled his head so Lance couldn’t see his expression easily.

“How about ‘stop’?”

Lance laughed it off. "Don't know that one," he said. His mood still in good spirits, Lance lazed back, face soft as he adjusted the instrument in his arms.

As his fingers found a pacifying, steady tune, Keith tilted his head back, picking out countless stars that seemed to twinkle in rhythm. He could feel their shoulders brushing. It couldn’t have been the first time that happened, though it felt exactly like that.

Bonding. Was this something like it? It was fleeting thought, swept along whatever song Lance orchestrated and somehow took part of at the same time. A song Keith almost felt was just for him, if he’d let the ridiculous idea settle. He didn’t.

Those were the sort of conceptions Lance had, a few notches short of having delusions of grandeur. Lance had picked up an artistic talent to impress girls for crying out loud. Now that was ridiculous at best, and pathetic at worst.

Lance began to hum in that low tenor.

Yeah, definitely pathetic.

Gradually, he shut his eyes and listened.

Well, Keith thought, there were worst ways to gain attention.

**-X-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little chapter was inspired by [thesearchingastraunaut](http://thesearchingastronaut.tumblr.com/), who has drawn Lance on multiple occasions with a guitar and has a great headcanon of him being a pretty good singer. Thanks to them for letting me write something based off it!
> 
> It's a little of a slow build even though these chapters aren't in any particular order. I will have a multi-fic out soon (hopefully) though that will flow differently. 
> 
> FYI I left it ambiguous what language Lance sang in.
> 
> Also musical planets must be a fun planet, but probably a ridiculous idea all the same...
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and the feedback!
> 
> ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance flirted with Keith, the first time, by accident.

Lance flirted with Keith, the first time, by accident.

It was probably a side effect of the high from a great victory for Voltron and an even greater blow for Zarkon. They had been gathered around, outside of their Lions, basking in relief and pride at their teamwork when Lance said something in response to Keith.

Only it had been a flirt.

Lance didn’t even remember what he said (I mean, he had an extensive itinerary of lines), maybe something about Keith’s skills that somehow translated into the bedroom or maybe something as simple (but classic) as a starry sky comparison to Keith’s eyes.

Whatever it was, Lance only knew it was a flirt because Hunk was staring at him with wide eyes. And Hunk of all people knew when Lance was on the cusp of a flirt before it even happened most times--and his face was saying everything Lance didn’t want to accept.

He'd just put the moves on Keith.

Lance whipped his eyes back to Keith (he did not need to see anyone else’s reaction). The Red Paladin was looking at him in that dumb, blinking kind of way, like maybe he was registering what had been said. Lance was about to laugh off whatever he’d said, possibly follow up with it about how awesome he had looked in comparison to Keith, when the inexcusable happen.

Keith shrugged.

Just like that.

It wasn’t until they had gotten back to the castle and Lance was still lingering on his dinner with Hunk that he processed what had happened.

“Did you _see_ that?” he asked.

Hunk worked down some more goo, eyebrow raised. “See what?”

“ _Keith_.”

“What about him?”

“He...he totally blew me off!” It came out like a question.

“Oh, you mean before?”

“Yes.”

“You’re still on that?”

“ _Yes_.” Lance frowned at Hunk, who seemed indifferent to the gravity of the situation.

“What about it?”

Lance huffed, gesticulated with utensil still in hand. “Hello? Did you not see his response?”

“...The blowing you off part?”

“I mean, who does he think he is?” Lance glowered down at the goo he’d left mostly untouched.

“Um, why do you even care?”

“I don’t _care_.”

“It sounds like you care, man.”

Lance breathed in deep. “He acted like what I said meant nothing.”

Hunk got quiet a moment. “ _Did_ it mean something?”

“Huh? What, no! That’s not the point!”

“But Allura always shoots you down.”

“That’s different,” Lance said. “She’s, you know, a Princess and has all these responsibilities and Voltron she has to put above her feelings for me--” (ignoring Hunk’s sarcastic ‘uh-huh’), “but Keith? He acted like…like...”

“Like he’s too good for you,” Hunk finished for him. Lance did not pick up on the sarcasm that time.

“Yes!” Lance pointed his utensil at Hunk. “Exactly, thank you.”

“Lance--”

“No, nuh-uh, not going to happen. He’s not going to get back on some pedestal.” Lance shook his head. It was the principal of the matter now. A pass from Lance was like a gift, and his smolder could melt both hearts and cold exteriors.

Lance’s determination was palpable. "I'll show him."

"I feel like I already know what that means," Hunk said, "and it's not a good idea."

"A little support would be appreciated."

"Are you sure you don't care?"

Lance slammed his fists on the table, question ignored. "Just you wait," he said. "I'm going to make high and mighty Keith swoon."

"Oh, boy."

**-x-**

The second, third, and fourth times Lance flirted with Keith were entirely on purpose.

And equally duds at that.

His first attempt had been the hardest. After all, it’s not like he had a lot of material to work with. It meant digging into his repertoire and studying Keith a little more. Like watching the way Keith’s nose wrinkled when Coran provided a new variation of goo, but not in disgust Lance found out. It was like he had a heightened sense of smell? But he always tried the food anyway, and he’d sometimes give a little blink if it wasn’t awful and keep eating.

Okay, so maybe there was _some_ material to work with Keith. But maybe he should go with the general stuff. Personalizing for Keith was just more effort than necessary right now. When Lance gathered up all his courage, which he had plenty of, and dropped a line on Keith...Nothing.

"Hello? Did you hear me?" Lance asked.

Maybe trying the first attempt while Keith was sharpening his dagger wasn’t the best start to any of this. Lance decided it was worse that Keith didn’t even stop.

“What are you talking about?” Keith asked.

Shiro came in then, and Lance felt his skin prickle. He chalked that one up to a loss and retreated back to the drawing board.

The second and third times were not much better.

One had been after a Voltron meeting in preparation for a new operation. Lance saw the opening as Keith deviated toward the training deck and followed after.

“Hey,” he said, angling his smile just right when Keith acknowledged him with a glance. “You got the time, Keith?”

Keith peered over at him. “Like, what? Earth time?”

“No, no. The time to give me your digits.”

Keith stopped. Lance did too, heart skipping a beat (weird). Had it worked? No, Lance, realized, when Keith looked at his own hand then, very awkwardly, held it out to Lance.

Lance stared at them. “Um?”

Keith was looking just as confused.

It clicked with Lance a second later. He wanted to smack his face (or better yet, Keith’s), but he held his smile. “No, no. I mean your number.”

“What number?”

Lance really needed to adjust some of these moves to apply for intergalactic situations. Or Keith. Keith didn’t seem the type to even have a cell back on Earth.

Great.

The next attempt had been soon after, and Lance went in for the kill while he and Keith were put on cleaning duty (Lance might have convinced Coran that Keith was all about cleaning so they’d be stuck together).

It was going to be a good one. Lance set it all up, the towel perfectly in his path to fake a trip and fall on. At least, that had been the goal.

“Whoa,” Keith said, “there are way more wires than I thought in this. Where do all these buttons connect to?”

Wires? Lights? Lance jerked his head around and saw Keith poking around that was not part of cleaning duties (Lance played with it once. Did not end well). “Hey, close that up before Coran--”

The towel. Lance, having marched right for Keith, slipped expertly on the obstacle, felt a twist to his ankle, and heard the crash of his ass on the floor before he felt it.

“Ow, ow…”

Lance cracked an eye open, ankle and bum throbbing. Keith was right over him, staring down and offering his hand up.

“That sounded bad,” Keith said. “Are you alright?”

The opportunity was going to waste. Lance’s mind clung to that truth, so he smiled through the pain, though it ended up coming out more like a grimace. As he took Keith’s hand, he landed it: “I guess you could say...I’ve fallen for you.”

“I think it was that you fell from,” Keith said, free hand pointing to the towel.

Lance grit his teeth and gripped Keith’s hand harder. “No, _for you_. Fallen for you? Get it?”

Keith frowned. “Maybe we should take you to the healing pod. Did you hit your head?”

Lance stuffed down the urge to shout his frustration. He forced a laugh, some excuse that he was practically indestructible, and stood up with Keith’s aid. The pads of his fingers were firm and warm against Lance’s.

Weird.

As Lance limped back to his room, he started to wonder maybe he had hit his head.

After several more failures,  Lance realized he was going to have to up his game. He had to scavenge for Keith-specific elements to fuse with his current skills. He began to study Keith at any opportunity he could, without Hunk’s blessing.

Lance didn’t expect to find anything though.

Well, there was always the way Keith tucked his hair behind his ear (you’d think he would just get it cut if it was bugging him). And it looked pretty lush when Lance really looked at it (for research, that way). Thick too, but not coarse?

And Keith had no end of skill in combat. Where Lance’s gaze lazily watched the combat below deck between Shiro and Keith, he was now focused, picking up things he didn’t notice before.

Then there was that smile after a good workout session Keith would sometimes have. When it was shared with Lance especially, it didn’t look all that stupid (Lance’s stomach felt funny though).

His laugh. At some victory celebration, Hunk did something that Lance missed. He only caught the start of Keith’s laughter, and saw the end of the wide grin that had grown on his face. Lance had blamed the strength of the drink they’d been served for the warmth he felt from it.

Lance decided he had to accumulate his findings into something quick.

Thus, the more recent attempt: during combat. Lance calculated that maybe Keith’s brain better processed data when he was in the throes of battle. He hadn’t been wrong, but he had forgotten the cacophony of a fight, and Keith shouted that he couldn’t make out what Lance was saying.

It had ended with Blue crashing snout first into a glacier.

“Dude, you need to stop.”

Lance frowned deep at Hunk, and shook his head. The move pulled at a tender muscle that made him groan and rub his neck. That crash had not been good. Pidge had already replayed it on their video feedback more than once.

“I’m just getting started,” Lance said.

“This is literally painful to watch, Lance. For yourself. Just forget it. It’s Keith after all.”

“It’s _because_ it’s Keith. He always thought he was better than me. And, yeah, okay, at first I thought he was just being his dumb self, but he looks at me this way like...ugh, Hunk, I swear he’s just trying to piss me off.”

“Hm.” Hunk was making a contemplative noise. “Yeah, it’s official.”

“What is?"

“You care too much about this.”

“Uh, duh.” Pidge’s voice startled them both. They came in, computer tucked under their arm and looking at Lance like he was hopeless. “Only everyone knows that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your goo-goo eyes at Keith.” Pidge smirked. “And the lines you’ve been giving him.”

Lance opened his mouth, but Pidge answered the question before he asked. “Keith talks to Shiro a lot. Shiro sometimes share things.”

Lance’s stomach churned. The worst thing about it was that it was from the reality of Keith talking to Shiro about things. Not that that really surprised Lance, but the first thing he wondered was why not him?

“Look,” Lance said, and maybe more for himself, “I’m just trying to make a point.”

“Yeah, just pretty sure it’s not the point you think it is,” Pidge said.

Lance looked between the two of them, eyebrows up. “What? What is it?”

Hunk scratched the side of his face. “Um...I don’t know, have you ever thought that...you do care. Like, you _care care_.”

“Care, care? Are you serious?”

“Maybe you kind of like Keith,” Pidge suggested. But it wasn’t really a suggestion.

“Well, yeah, I don’t really hate him anymore.”

“No,” Hunk said, “ _like like_ Keith.”

“What are you, six?” Lance asked, then froze. Soreness be damned, he jumped up. “ _What_ ? No quiznaking way! That’s _not_ -”

“You sound awfully defensive there, Lance,” Pidge said, turning away. “Diagnostics are done on your Lion. I did you a favor and left you the feedback of you gawking at Keith before you crashed.”

Lance’s jaw hung open at Pidge’s audacity. He whirled on Hunk. “You don’t really believe that crap do you? Hello, it’s _Keith_.”

Hunk shrugged like it was no big deal. That only skyrocketed Lance’s anxiety. “I don’t know. You like pretty things. Keith actually kind of is pretty in his own way.”

“I am not hearing this.”

“Look, come on. I’m just saying you’re putting a lot, and I mean a lot, of effort into this thing.”

“So?” Lance knew he sounded petulant. He didn’t care.

Hunk shrugged both shoulders. “You like who you like.”

Lance’s stomach felt infested with something the more Hunk talked, and the more Keith rolled around in his mind. He made some excuse and stormed out, fed up with everything. He wasn’t sure where he was going to in the castle. Maybe the showers. Maybe his room.

It ended up being neither of those. He spotted Keith down the hall.

His legs turned toward him without him thinking about it.

“Hey!”

Keith stopped, spotting Lance and the aura he carried. “Hey?”

Lance marched right up to Keith. He stared intensely at those deep eyes, somehow so distant like a part of Keith lived secretly somewhere no one else understood. Eyes that could still shine, and a mouth, for all the scowls it made, could turn up into something soft.

Shit.

Lance fisted his hands, sucked in a deep breath.

“If I told you that you had a great body would you hold it against me!”

Lance hadn’t meant it to come out as a shout, but there it was, the echo of it like a haunting more than anything else. This time, as he waited for Keith’s reaction, his throat felt thick, palms sweaty. Heart thumping hard.

Keith glanced down at himself, then looked back at Lance. “Um...thanks?”

Lance bristled. “No! That’s...not, you’re--why aren’t you-- _coño_ …!”

He had meant to keep it together, because he was smooth like that. But his tongue went on without him, the rant mangled with a litany of insults because _damn it, Keith_. Lance didn’t recognize he was long gone with it until he felt hands on his arms.

He shut up instantly. Blinked at Keith so close. Really close. Like, Lance could see his eyelashes, long and dark.

Keith still held onto his forearms. “Were...you talking in another language?”

Lance swallowed. “...Sometimes that happens.”

“Like when you’re really upset,” Keith suggested.

Lance flicked his gaze down to the heat on his arms. He yanked his arms free. “Hey!”

Keith stepped back. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s _your_ problem!”

“You’re the one that came up to me!”

“You’re the one that’s messing with me!”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me! I’ve only been putting moves on you for weeks and you’ve been acting like you’re too good for it!”

Keith didn’t say anything to that. Not right away. He was staring at Lance as if he was putting together pieces to a puzzle. Lance remained agitated, more so as his gaze kept ticking down to Keith’s mouth.

“Wait,” Keith finally said, “you were...hitting on me?”

Lance crossed his arms with a snort. “Obviously.”

A lot of things went over Keith’s head, but this? Lance should be able to hit him right on the head. Maybe with a fist about now.

“Why?”

The million dollar (or pick your preferred alien currency) question. Before, Lance had been able to answer the question without a hitch. Now that Keith asked it though, it tasted stale on his tongue. The more Keith stared at him, the less Lance knew how to answer.

His emotions were putting his facial expressions through the ringer. He only stopped when Keith took a step closer. Lance took a half step back, muscles taut.

“That’s...well, uh,” Lance trailed off.

Keith kept coming closer. Lance had the longer legs, but the wall trapped him in. Then it was all Keith in his space, a pressure that felt like it was pushing right into Lance’s chest.

“Do you want me to?” asked Keith.

Lance felt his face heating up. Everything was getting hot suddenly. The ache in his neck from earlier was nonexistence at this point. “Do...Do what?”

“Your question,” Keith asked.

Lance’s heart was making leaps up his throat now. How could Keith look at him so easily? It was like the world worked so easily in Keith’s mind, like nothing could throw him off. Even now, after Lance’s devotion to this task, the mullet-wearing dropout had the advantage.

Keith had always been the impulsive one of their party. But it was a bad idea to forget Lance had his own impulses. He would realize much later that Keith was the impetus for most of them.

Including this one: Lance seized Keith’s arms. Why? Impulses weren’t always good about coming from a source of logic. Push Keith? Draw him closer? Freak him out?

But Keith was all impulse and reactions. The grab startled him and he he tried to break free on instinct. Lance gasped and clung harder, and then, just like that, they were grappling.

“Let go!”

“You let go!”

Lance had yet another failure coming. His mind wasn’t in the right state. Hell, his whole universe felt off-kilter. Keith utilized his skills to end the wrestling, with Lance pinned under him. They stared at each other, eyes wide, breathless as if they’d been at it for hours.

It wasn’t the best time to study the pink glow to Keith’s cheeks. Or the secure way he held Lance’s wrists by his head. The feel of Keith’s thighs clamped by his hips.

Double shit.

Keith’s eyes were alight for such a dark color. Panting, he said, “If you like me, just say it.”

Lance sputtered. “Wh...What?” He was saying that a lot lately. Not cool.

“Do you or don’t you?” Keith asked.

Nope. No, no, no, no. It wasn’t that easy. The universe didn’t function on such simplicity, on just black and white with no gray in between. The more Lance squirmed, the harder Keith held on.

Lance wasn’t sure when he finally stilled and stared up at Keith. His dumb hair. The way it spilled nicely over his face at this angle. Strong hands.

Lance pinched his eye shut tightly and groaned.

“...Maybe,” he squeezed out.

The thump of his heart was deafening. Above it, he could make out Keith’s breath coming more evenly. He dared to crack an eye open.

Keith was half-smiling. A little sound that might have been a chuckle left him.

Lance didn’t know why, but his lip twitched. That made Keith’s smile grow, and he laughed. And maybe because Lance had lost it (I mean, did he just confess to Keith?), he laughed too. It felt like ages since he laughed so much.

When it calmed, he felt exhausted.

“Does this count as bonding?” Keith asked.

“Oh, God,” Lance sighed, letting his head smack the ground. Nope. Not a dream. Eyes opening, he studied Keith still looming over him. “I really do still hate you sometimes.”

“You like and hate me?”

Lance shrugged. Labels. What good had they done for him lately?

“Is that a yes?” Keith asked, leaning back and letting Lance sit up.

“You’re asking a lot of questions,” Lance said. “Should have put that to use for your studies at Galaxy Garrison.”

“Like you did better sneaking out.” Keith sat beside him. “Hunk told me.”

“It was for good reasons.”

“And this?”

Lance cocked his head at him.

Keith wasn’t looking at him this time. In fact, his whole body posture was kind off facing away from Lance, though he was sitting right next to him. If Lance didn’t know better, he might have thought Keith looked...shy? That seemed an impossible description, so Lance forgot it.

Keith didn’t seem to know what to verbalize. But, gradually, his shoulder bumped into Lance’s. Stayed there. It felt...nice.

Then Keith’s pinky brushed against Lance’s.

The feeling that rushed through Lance was stronger than when Pidge shocked him with his bayard. Electric and sharp down to his toes. Lance peeked at Keith, saw the lines of his profile. They were nice lines, at elegant angles.

Pretty. Hunk had used the word. Lance kind of got it now. Maybe.

“This,” Lance said, looking ahead, maybe letting his finger graze Keith’s back, “is...not bad.”

They sat like that for several heartbeats.

“Does something happen now?” Keith asked.

Lance tensed, tried to keep his voice steady. What did happen now? Lance felt like he should be asking Keith a similar question, but he didn't really want to hear the answer.

After contemplation, Lance collected his wits and remembered who he was. “Well,” he said, “you could thank me for flattering you.”

Keith made a noise. “All those things you said were supposed to be flattering?”

“I have a lot more.”

“I’m afraid to ask…”

Lance couldn’t help flash him a grin. He leaned against Keith’s shoulder and said, “Do you have a map? Because I’m getting lost in  your eyes.”

“Ugh.”

“Are you a parking ticket? You’ve got fine written all over you.”

“No.”

“I’m not a photographer, but I can picture you and me together.”

Keith turned his head at that one. Something in his expression quieted Lance’s next line, and made the electric feeling shoot up through him anew.

Keith looked away again, but Lance could make out the flush in his face. “...That one...isn’t so bad.”

Lance swallowed his heart back down. He cleared his throat and looked the other way too. At some point their other fingers crept closer.

_You like who you like._

“I’m a thief,” Keith said.

Lance side-glanced him. “A thief?”

“And I’m here to steal your feelings.”

Lance stared.

Then, burst out laughing.

“ _What_?” He managed to talk through his laughing fit. “I think you said that wrong. That was terrible! Your delivery was off too.”

“Whatever!”

“It should be, ‘I’m here to steal your heart’.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Keith said. “Shouldn’t you want the heart to come willingly to you or something? Like...I don’t know, a puppy?”

Lance only laughed harder. “You’ve got no smooth factor at all. Is that the kind of stuff you’d say to girls?”

“I never said anything to girls or anyone,” Keith said. He was looking at Lance again, and his face was so...something. It heated Lance’s face and tickled deep in his stomach. “I guess I won’t need to either.”

Lance’s eyes bulged. His heart felt just as enlarged, and the tickle washed over his skin, more so when Keith’s hand blatantly squeezed his own.

Keith was flirting, and he had no damn clue that he was doing it.

“Er...yeah,” Lance said, because he had to say something, but he rather just keep staring at Keith’s eyes when he was looking like that. He might have squeezed the hand back.

“Yeah,” he repeated.

Much later, when Lance went over the events that lead to the moment of him and Keith holding hands, he'd come to accept that _Keith_ had, in fact, flirted with Lance.

And not by accident in the slightest.

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a ridiculous idea that was probably funnier in my head.
> 
> Thank you for reading and the kudos and comments! They always get me all giddy.


	4. Chapter 4

Keith never really thought about hand-holding.

In truth, he never expended extra thought about those kinds of things. And ‘things’ they were, because relationships on any level might as well be foreign to Keith (how many levels were there anyway?). It wasn’t like he didn’t know they existed, or that they were a waste of his efforts. He just...never really clicked with any of that, much less thought about it.

That all changed when Hunk brought it up.

“So, how was your date with Lance?”

The question surprised Keith so much he stopped tinkering with Red’s gears. He’d taken up Hunk’s offer now and then to put on his engineering cap and get to know his Lion better (Hunk figured out the bulk of all this stuff before anyone else did). And Keith liked to think that counted for bonding, because Hunk was pretty easy to talk to, and easier to listen to than most. When he wasn't rambling on about theories and mechanisms that Keith had no idea about, that is.

But he’d never thrown Keith a question like that before.

“Uh, what?” Keith looked at Hunk over his shoulder.

Hunk wasn’t even looking at him, instead scanning the map of Red’s inner workings on a screen. “You know, your date.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hunk lifted his gaze. “We were on that red planet yesterday.”

“Yeah.”

“And then Lance went to its moon, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And you went too.” It wasn’t a question.

Keith wasn’t sure what to say. They had sort of made it a secret thing to go there, but Keith figured it was so that they wouldn’t get in trouble for ditching the celebrations early. But Hunk was looking at him like Keith couldn’t even try to say otherwise.

Hunk raised a brow, then laughed. “Lance was all like, ‘cover for me so I can rendezvous with this hot alien babe’, but like, seriously. I saw you go too.”

Keith frowned. “Hot alien babe?”

“I mean, I think I get it now. It actually makes sense.”

“What are you talking about?”

"You two, obviously."

"...Us two?"

Hunk blinked at him. “Uh...hello? Aren’t you guys, you know...dating?”

Keith stood up. “That was a date?”

Hunk’s face fell, but the pity in his gaze wasn’t aimed at Keith. For who, Keith couldn’t be sure and didn’t really want to ask. “Oh, boy,” Hunk sighed. “Okay, look, I’m a drama-free kind of guy. It just upsets my stomach and then I can’t enjoy a good meal, or...goo, I guess more recently, so you don’t have to be weird about it.”

Keith tilted his head. Hunk looked like he wanted to laugh and sigh at the same time.

“Look, man, not that I care. But...you _are_ dating, right?”

Keith never contemplated it. Labeling had always been pointless. Now that he did, he couldn’t sum up an appropriate answer, so he shrugged. Hunk did not look impressed by that.

“No way!" Hunk gawked. "It’s kind of obvious? At least to me. I know Lance well enough.”

“We’re just...us,” Keith said.

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m talking about the usual things. Uh,” Hunk looked away like he had to think about it, “I guess the usual stuff like going out alone together, eating together.”

“We all eat at the same time usually.”

Hunk hummed, crossing his arms. “Going out alone together?"

"Aren't we doing that right now?"

"...Okay. Fair point." Hunk scratched his head. "Hand-holding?”

Keith shrugged again.

“Really?” Hunk asked. "I kind of figured Lance to be the type."

“People really do that?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

"It seems a hassle. When do both people know to let go?”

Hunk opened his mouth, closed it. The second time, he was able to say, “Okay, legit enough question coming from you. And I figure some people might freak out over that kind of affection. I guess the usual stuff would be kind of different with you two anyway. I mean, you guys always got on each other’s nerves.”

Keith thought they still did. It was just underlined with less hostility (usually), or came from an outburst because _damn it, Keith you can’t just dive head first into danger_. Keith wasn’t sure if that counted for anything Hunk was saying.

“And,” Hunk was still talking, “we’re not exactly everyday guys anymore. We’re these Voltron Paladins, jumping from planet to planet, with no roots, any friends and family lightyears away and...and...I think I just bummed myself out.”

Keith shook his head, but gave a little smile as he sat down beside him.

De-bumming Hunk steered their conversation onto a new route, but Keith’s mind wandered back to it later that day. Things people did when they were dating? It took a lot more brainpower than he liked thinking on it, on what he and Lance did, if it mattered what category it could fall under.

It was becoming almost a routine to find Lance outside the training deck when Keith stepped out, fresh and clean. The workout hadn’t clarified anything, and looking at Lance with his big smile made him much more aware of the pull and fluttery feelings he got.

“Pidge scored a movie with their tech,” Lance said. “I don’t get how they got it exactly and it’s not important what I owe them for it, but what _is_ important is some old school entertainment.”

“Just us?” Keith asked.

Lance’s face faltered, and there was a glow to his cheeks for a moment. “Uh, oh, um...yeah. That’s cool, right? Hunk is on a breakthrough with some dessert and Pidge didn’t even ask.”

Keith wondered if Pidge knew as much as Hunk.

“Okay,” Keith said.

“Sweet! I haven’t seen ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off’ in forever.”

As Lance began guiding them down a hall, Keith matched his pace. He knew their hands were inches apart, at least when Lance wasn’t gesturing with them. He kind of did that a lot. Keith didn’t hate it.

“I haven’t seen it.”

“What? You’re kidding.”

Keith held up his hands. Lance scoffed.

“You’ve clearly lived under a rock.” Lance marched on ahead into his room. “You should be grateful I’m giving you a little culture.”

Keith cocked a brow at him. “Culture? From you?”

“Hey, I have plenty culture.”

Not sure Keith had the repertoire necessary to combat culture, at least of the cinema variety, he followed a foot behind Lance. His eyes zeroed in on Lance’s hand again. Keith envisioned himself reaching out, slipping his hand into Lance’s. It wasn’t a terrible image.

Keith glanced at his own hand, willed it forward--

And missed entirely.

Lance had started gesturing again, talking about something Keith wasn’t really listening to. He drew back his hand quickly at the failure. Maybe Hunk didn’t know what he was talking about.

Keith scolded himself to shake it off and forget about it. Once in the room, he made himself comfortable, and knew he was not doing a good job at shaking it off. Making himself comfortable probably was typical non-dating stuff, right? Or maybe it wasn’t.

He watched Lance from the seat he took in the viewing area. Allura had been skeptical about allowing any of the rooms to be modified for entertainment, but Shiro won her over. Not that Keith frequented those rooms. At least, not really, until he and Lance hung out more.

“Alright,” Lance was saying, playing with the control panel that would showcase the movie upon a massive, floating screen. The lights dimmed and Keith paid attention to just how close Lance sat beside him.

The movie played, but Keith didn’t really pay it much mind. Hunk’s words had gotten deep into his skin, making his fingers feel all kinds of restless. He liked Lance. He could admit that. It was a simple conclusion, and Lance...sort of liked him? They talked more. They had squeezed hands once. And Lance’s eyes darted around more instead of staring at him head on like he did previously (albeit it was more of a glare back then).

The more Keith’s mind struggled with the concept, the more his fingers itched.

He kind of wanted to hold Lance’s hand.

Keith never let the why’s of life obstruct progress, but something in this ‘why’ was holding back his hand from reaching out. Lance’s hand was resting on the space between their legs, within reach, tempting.

Would Lance be the freaking out sort about this? Pidge had once called Lance a spazz (in turn, Lance insulted their height and that left him with more than a few hairs singed), and that seemed attributable to this scenario.

Maybe.

Keith tried to focus on the movie. “Why does he stop to talk to us? I thought this was a movie.”

“He’s breaking the the fourth wall.”

“...Okay.”

“It’s funny.”

In the end, Keith fisted his hands in his lap the rest of the night.

**-x-**

A mission and a couple of restless nights later, Keith decided his prognosis was not looking good. He decided to seek consultation. It happened more on an impulse than planned preparation, that he asked Shiro about it.

While he felt a connection to his teammates, Shiro was...Shiro. He didn’t complicate his explanations, and there was a directness about his words that, on multiple occasions, had taken down Keith’s anger a peg or two.

And because Keith was Keith, and the frustration on this subject had been mounting, he blurted out his question in the middle of sparring:

“Is it weird if you don’t hold hands with someone you like?”

Shiro dodged a blow easily. “Er…”

The words were pushing up past Keith’s throat. “What if you don’t know if they’ll freak out about it? Or maybe it’s just an annoyance? Is it needy?”

It was probably the closest to Keith rambling. Shiro’s hand on his shoulder quieted him down, and he stared up into a smile that seemed to understand way more than Keith did.

“Easy there,” Shiro said. “Sounds like you have a lot on your mind.”

“It’s just one thing,” Keith said. But it happened to be a big thing. Keith’s mind operated on a low key basis. Even in the heat of battle, it was instinct more than anything else that guided him.

“I see.” Whatever Shiro was thinking, Keith couldn’t tell, but he waited, feeling a little silly now for having asked the question. “No. It’s not weird.”

It wasn’t what Keith expected. He straightened. “It’s not?”

“It depends on the people. But, and I’m just guessing here, it sounds like you’re thinking more of the act literally than what it means.”

Keith blinked slowly.

Shiro chuckled, hands going on his hips. “It’s...about knowing they’re there. The comfort of their support. Kind of like when you give someone a gift. It’s more the act than the gift itself.”

Keith didn’t mention that analogy didn’t apply well to him. Shiro must have understood his confusion, because he paused for a while before saying, “It’s like when you’re piloting. Is it just you maneuvering the controls that makes you a good pilot?”

“No. It’s more than that.”

Shiro nodded. “Can you express what that is in words?”

Keith thought he could give it a go. When nothing intelligible really came from it, he deflated.

Shiro laughed. “I think you get it now. It’s not easy to explain.”

“Oh. So it is kind of...messy?”

“In a way.” Shiro kept smiling down at him, and Keith got the feeling he wanted to discuss this a little more. But Shiro didn’t probe, and Keith took that gratefully for all its worth. Shoulders a little less tense, he smiled back.

After training, Lance was waiting outside in the hall. He gave a little wave to Shiro too, his smile a kind of more casual one. Keith had a record of all of Lance’s smiles. Not really by choice. He just did.

“Hey, Shiro,” Lance said. He scratched his nose. “Uh, no drills anymore for the day, right?”

"Got plans, Lance?” Shiro asked.

"I’m a pretty popular guy with the aliens.”

Shiro gave Lance a look, then looked Keith’s way. “Just be sure you don’t get back late. Paladins need a good night’s sleep.”

“Hey, you know me. I’m all about beauty sleep.”

Shiro waved them off, and Keith came closer. “Plans?” he asked, a little accusingly.

“Just a tiny one.” Lance pinched his fingers for emphasis. He burst into a grin and started jogging toward the hangers. Keith was probably a little of an idiot to hurry after him. “There’s going to be a meteor shower. I told Coran you and I could do the night sweep around the castle and then catch it in time for Shiro’s turn.”

“You volunteered us, huh?”

“It’ll be worth it.” They slowed to a stop at their destination. “When am I ever wrong?”

When Keith opened his mouth, Lance clamped his hand over it. “Don’t answer that,” Lance said. He moved his hand away too fast for Keith to process it having been there. He’d felt a jump in his heart at the loss of it.

A meteor shower. Keith was down for that. Whether it classified as date-worthy, he didn’t think he had more brain juice to debate with himself over. So, with chest feeling a little heavy, he loaded into Red, and humored Lance.

True to Lance’s word, it had been worth it. They perched Red and Blue on an asteroid with the perfect view. The meteors rained down just as Keith landed beside Lance in a clearing of rocky outcroppings.

“Whoa, they look so close,” Lance said.

Keith watched alongside him. The meteors streaked like fireworks that would never pop, a sudden rush of color made that much more brilliant against the darkness of space. Keith would have never seen them like this back on Earth.

Would he see showers from it again one day? Would Lance be sitting next to him?

Keith’s gaze strayed. He glanced over at Lance, who had leaned back to bask in the full view of the shower. He had a calm face Keith didn’t see on him often. It was nice.

“It never looked quite like this on Earth, huh,” Lance said.

“Not even close.”

Keith couldn’t be sure with their helmets on, but he thought there was a little somberness to Lance’s expression. Maybe a memory of his family had slipped in with the mentioning of their home planet.

Shiro’s words replayed in Keith’s head then. He looked down at Lance’s hand.

Falling to the urge at last, Keith seized it.

“Ow! Hey!” Lance was trying to jerk his hand back, but Keith chased it back into his palm. “What gives?”

Keith frowned. “I’m supporting you.”

Lance stared at him.

Keith gestured to their hands.

“By trying to break my fingers?” Lance asked.

Keith tensed and quickly dropped his hold. “No, that’s, I mean,” he trailed off into a curse and turned his head away. “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

He hooked his arms over his knees, grasping his hands tightly. He wasn’t looking at the shower anymore.

“Wait, don’t get all angsty on me,” Lance said. Keith wanted to ignore him, but given the practicality of their positions, that wasn’t likely. After a few more ticks, Lance said, “Were...you...trying to hold my hand?”

“I said forget it.”

But Lance wouldn’t forget it, because he never forgot the things he didn’t want to. He gave a little laugh and scooted closer. “Dang, I know I’m irresistible, but-”

“Shut up! I said it was _nothing_.”

Lance did shut up. Keith should have been proud he accomplished such a feat. It was always jokes or lines out of Lance that could deflect the severity of any given situation. They didn’t, not every time, and Keith didn’t want it to be one of those times.

"It’s...not nothing,” Keith said. Gathering his will, he made himself stare directly at Lance. “Not to me.”

Lance sputtered. The helmet didn’t conceal all the pinks happening in his face. He had to swallow a couple of times, and he was losing the contest of who could hold the gaze the longest.

“I...uh…”

Keith noticed that Lance’s hand was hovering, awkwardly. It crept closer, and then Keith figured some of it out.

For all Lance’s flirtations with pretty things, he didn’t seem capable of processing the next step when someone finally went along with it. He was all kinds of twitchy and forced chuckles, and getting pinker every still.

Keith released one of his hands and brought it out. He leveled his stare again, but didn’t bring his hand closer. It remained open, inviting, and waiting. If a little impatiently.

Lance peeked down at the hand, then back up at Keith. There was an instant of Keith’s chest tightening when he thought Lance would recoil, but then his hand wasn’t alone anymore. A bump of their hands, a stuttered apology, and then their palms were pressing together.

They had their suits on, but Keith could still feel the heat of Lance’s hand. The flutters came back through his chest and stomach as Lance’s sole attention rested on him in a single gaze. His smile made Keith’s face go even pinker than Lance’s.

Keith jerked his head away, gazing back up at the shower. If he stole a look, he would see Lance was doing the same. They couldn’t quite meet each other’s eyes.

But their hands stayed joined, and at some point, someone’s fingers wiggled, and then they were laced.

When the time came to depart back to the castle, it wasn’t so strange slipping his hand out of Lance’s. Somehow, he knew it could go back in there whenever it wanted.

“See you back at the castle?” Lance was rubbing his neck and avoiding eye contact still. Keith noticed the hand he’d been holding Keith’s with was flexing.

“Yeah.”

Keith turned, stopping when Lance called out to him.

“Uh, since it’s not too late still...did you want to try another movie tonight?”

Keith crossed his arms. “Is that a date?”

Lance’s eyes bugled. He did the mouth-opening-but-nothing-good-falling-out thing. But then he puffed up and looked Keith straight on. “Yeah. It is. Is that a problem?”

Keith’s mouth almost did the same nothing-falling-out thing. “Um...no.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Later, when they quietly made their way to the room they saw the last movie, Keith felt Lance sneak a squeeze at his hand. It was quick, and Lance’s face got red before he hurried ahead of Keith, which in turn turned into a contest of who can get their first.

It was a tie.

Another movie played, this one more engaging with fast cars and explosives that were ridiculous enough to make them laugh. Keith didn’t know who reached out first, but their hands brushed. They both twitched, and re-sought each other out again.

Keith thought, as he watched a car flip four times and survive a fifty-foot plummet, this wasn’t so weird after all. When Lance’s thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hand, Keith could only think they should have done this sooner.

“Hunk said that?” Lance asked, when Keith admitted the source of all this.

“It got me thinking was all.”

“Yeah, that’s dangerous for you.”

Keith shoved his leg with his foot, but Lance only laughed. Their hands remained locked, and Lance used his free one to rub the back of his head. “Oh, man. He catches on quick.”

“Does it bother you?”

“What, no. It’s just...you know.”

Keith didn’t know, but when Lance squeezed his hand, he didn’t think he needed to know. Not through words anyway. He’d always preferred the sincerity of actions, and even if he didn’t know if he was doing this hand-holding thing right, Lance hadn’t let go.

It was the only time Keith wanted to slip off his gloves. But Lance didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’d scooted closer (with a fake yawn and stretch that could only fool Keith) so that their thighs pressed together. Their hands rested atop Lance’s thigh.

“You...uh, good?” Lance whispered.

Keith realized he’d gotten a little tense. Probably a little warm in the neck too. 

“Yeah,” Keith whispered back. “I’m good.”

So maybe they didn’t quite look each other in the eyes, and both were now exponentially prone to a case of pinks and reds on their faces. Their fingers would sort of move on their own, feeling the warmth of the other. At one point, they might have played out what was essentially the equivalent to a thumb-war (another tie). Then Lance’s fingers would find and graze the patches of skin around Keith’s glove. In turn, Keith liked to trace the length of Lane’s fingers, follow the curve from one to the other, then brush over his knuckles and feel the hint of goosebumps forming.

Lance gave a little cough. “You really like holding hands, huh? I didn’t think you the type.”

Keith didn’t think he was really any kind of type. Nor did he ever think he’d put such attention into mapping out the shape of someone else’s hands. But Shiro’s words clicked, how it couldn’t be explained. There was one thing he could make sense of.

“I like your hands,” Keith said.

“Oh.” It was no better than a squeak from one of Allura’s mice.

Keith felt like he unlocked a new level of something, obtained the power of holding hands. It was like unlocking a new skill, tailored for Lance. It was a revelation Keith decided not to share with Lance’s ego.

“I, uh…” Lance was stumbling over words. It was a rarity Keith might have appreciated more if his body didn’t feel so warm. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

“What is it?”

Lance tensed, clearing his throat. When Keith snuck a peek at him, his head was a little too high, probably at the right height to not see Keith in the corner of his vision. “I was saying...I guess yours aren’t...so bad either.”

His fingers smoothed over the fabric of Keith’s gloves, played with a piece that puckered at the wrist. Keith stopped watching the movie. His focus narrowed down to the point of their contact, watching how Lance’s fingers went from fiddling with his gloves, to tugging them off. It wasn’t the smoothest gesture, but Lance’s fingers looked like they had tried to do it fluidly. They had stopped now and then, and Keith wondered if it was because Lance was expecting a protest from him. He didn't.

Keith’s bare hand nestled itself back into Lance’s. The full contact had his heart skip a beat (or two). The warmth was better, and he could experience all of the softness that was Lance’s hands (a side effect of moisturizing or good genes?). But Keith appreciated the patches of his fingertips, and how strong Lance’s fingers felt, maybe born from his time as a paladin and all that trigger-pulling.

Lance still was avoiding eye contact like his life depended on him. Keith was fine with that, because he wasn’t sure his own heart could take a direct look. But, he figured, he could scoot a little closer so their knees pressed a little more firmly. 

Lance responded with another squeeze.

So Hunk hadn't been all that wrong in the end, Keith realized.

Only he found he much preferred doing the hand-holding with Lance than thinking about it.

**-X-**

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this wasn't supposed to be hand porn when I first started (but seriously, Lance's hands are amazing things I swear).
> 
> As a reminder, though these aren't in any exact order, there is some flow. I'll be exploring various aspects of their developing relationship, but it might jump around a little.
> 
> Thank you again so much for all the comments and kudos thus far!


	5. Chapter 5

Lance had trouble with shutting up.

It wasn’t a problem he ever acknowledged, let alone admitted (no matter how many times Shiro clamped his hand over Lance's mouth, or Pidge induced bodily harm to get the job done). He was barely aware of it himself, how it extended to his internal monologuing ( _did she say eight or eight-thirty? Was this the meeting spot? Did she blow me off? I should have invested in that new cream-_ etc.).

Sometimes it wasn’t all bad rambling off in his head. Like when it was replaying a victory in his head, or, and this was more of late, things with Keith. Touching hands with Keith. Feeling their knees press under the table. Those were things Lance could roll around in his head multiple times.

That was, until tonight.

They’d been having dinner on a new planet that grew just the right ingredients for Hunk to surprise them all with a dessert. Some custard filled treat that Lance felt he could eat a sleeve off, and he’d turned to Keith to say as much when he saw it.

A smear of the custard on Keith’s lower lip.

Harmless, and yet Lance’s nerves felt seared.

“Hm?” Keith rose a brow. “Why are you making that face?”

Lance had to swallow. He pointed, and didn’t think anything intelligent fell out of his mouth. Lance knew he was in trouble before it happened: Keith caught on and finally registered the cream on his lips. He rose his hand to his mouth, then did the unforgivable: he licked it off. 

Like it was no big deal. Like it wouldn’t rock the foundation of Lance’s world.

Then the fantasy hit. Lance tore his gaze away and stared down at his empty plate, but all he could see was Keith’s mouth. Specifically on his mouth. A lot.

Okay, that wasn’t super weird. No need to overthink it, Lance told himself. After all, Lance just kind of rode the tides of the moment, and there certainly had definitely been moments between him and Keith. They weren’t frequent, what with battling a Galra empire and the team-building exercises, but they were there. Little instances in time Lance could revisit after a long day.

Dating, Hunk had called it, because Hunk was that kind of genius that meant it was hard to keep things secret from him. Especially if you were best buds.

“You okay there?” Shiro asked.

Lance shook off the worst of the nerves in time. He lifted his head. “Huh?”

“You looked like you were going to puke for a second,” Pidge said.

“What? No way.” Lance straightened in his seat. “This is the best thing I’ve eaten in weeks! No offense, Coran.”

He’d remedied the situation before it careened out of his control. The conversations picked up to the latest victory for Team Voltron after that. Good.

Only, it wasn’t good. Lance’s world would never be the same.

**-x-**

“Dude, are you okay?” 

Lance lifted his head, not realizing he’d been staring down at the ground as he and Hunk retreated to Blue’s den. “Sorry, what?”

“You’ve been spacing out since dinner. Did you and your _bae_ have a fight?” Hunk asked. Lance had casually referred to Keith as such one time, and no one was letting it go.

Lance flushed but held his nose up high. “We’re not fighting.” He tilted his head, coming to a stop. “Hey, Hunk, do you think a first kiss is important?”

Hunk’s face fell. “Oh, man, you _are_ fighting. What’d you do? Shove your tongue down his throat?”

“What? No!” Lance flailed his hands. “Why would you think I’d do that?”

“You’re kind of an eager beaver, Lance.”

“You did not just use that expression.”

“I’m serious.” Hunk pointed at him. “You remember that girl at that bar you snuck us into after lights out at the garrison?”

“I believe you were sneaking right along with me.”

“And I stated for the record it was a bad idea."

"You say that about all our adventures," Lance said.

"The _point_ is that you do too much too fast.”

Lance replayed the night. He recalled offering his services for a dance, and had been all joy and energy when she’d agreed. He really couldn’t remember the details after that save for when she ducked away, saying she’d be back after going to the bathroom. She never came back.

“That was different,” Lance said.

"You weren't exactly subtle about your intentions."

"No way." Yet he couldn’t easily discredit Hunk’s opinion. He was the only one Lance would openly chat about these kind of things, never having received criticism (well, not the serious ego-crushing kind anyway) for it. That, and Hunk was a smart guy. Lance usually gave his words weight.

“Okay,” Lance sighed. “So maybe I’m just a passionate kind of guy.”

Hunk smiled at him. “That’s one word for it.”

“Whatever.” But Lance was smiling back.

“I have a better word for it.” Pidge’s voice startled Lance. He whipped around in time to see the Green Paladin strolling up toward them, computer tucked under their arm.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Lance asked.

“You asked if I’d help upgrade your Lion’s shields, or were you too busy fantasizing about your ‘bae’ to remember?”

“I wasn’t fantasizing. And at least I have something that’s not some gizmo or robot to fantasize about.”

Pidge sneered. “You know, one day there’s going to be a way that gets you to stop talking.”

“And deprive you of my beautiful voice?”

“Only you would think that, Lance,” Pidge said. "Try a better line next time."

“I don’t know. You seemed pretty interested about listening in on my conversation with Hunk.”

“Please,” Pidge said. “like I don’t have better things to be doing with my time than listen to the woes of your love life?” They kept walking, pausing only to smirk back at Lance. “Or rather, _lackthereof_.”

“Hey!”

But later, when they were working on Blue’s shields and Lance was talking shit (poetically put by Pidge), he couldn’t help think Pidge was kind of right.

**-x-**

Okay, so, Lance wanted to kiss Keith.

He just couldn’t be too eager to show it. Being the smooth operator that he was, he understood the first kiss was critical. His older brother once told him a girl knew where a relationship was going based on the first kiss alone. It had been a groundbreaking realization at the time for Lance, who researched and prepped his lips for when that time came.

Lance considered though if a guy thought about first kisses like that? Did _he_ think anything on it? Lance didn’t really know. Each time he thought about what Keith wondered about it, he had more questions than resolutions. Questions he didn’t think anyone on his team would settle.

Besides, he was well equipped in matters of seduction, so he didn’t need anyone’s help.

Thus Operation ‘Seduce Keith’s Mouth onto My Mouth’ was a-go the next day.

Phase one: bring attention to his own mouth.

It proved a slight challenge to nail the right opportunity (they spent half the time in their Lions after all), but Lance's confidence wasn't standing on weak legs. At the start of a celebration in Voltron’s honor for liberating yet another planet, Lance saw his first chance when they were presented a glass flask to drink from. It had something to do with a ritual, of drinking from the same pool of good-vibes or something. Honestly, Lance hadn’t really paid all that attention once his mind warped around its potential use.

After Shiro, Lance accepted the glass, already angled so his lips would sip from a new spot. He made sure Keith was watching him, then sipped deliberately with leisure. He made sure a drop trickled down as he completed his gulp, smiling faintly at Keith.

“Delicious,” he said. Not too deep, a little breathless as if he’d been parched.

Keith’s gaze dropped to his mouth. Perfect.

Just as Lance was handing him the glass, Keith stepped closer. Lance tensed, alert because Keith was actually really close. Had the plan scored Lance an early victory? His heart fluttered when Keith’s hand rose, and then a thumb wiped the droplet from Lance’s lower lip. It felt like a full minute of the pressure from Keith’s thumb, even if it was gloved under his uniform.

Keith withdrew, like it was a totally normal thing he did. Lance blinked, not feeling him take the drink but seeing the glass reach Keith’s lips. He drank directly from Lance’s spot, the sight hypnotizing Lance into hungry staring.

Phase One: results yielded, just not the way Lance had expected

“Get a room,” Pidge said.

Lance blamed the drink for how red his face got.

**-x-**

Lance didn’t want to waste the opening food or drink could create for him altogether. He opted to put a little more effort on a day that was more at ease than riddled with fighting. Being a Chosen Paladin, that amounted to a respite when Shiro and Hunk scouted ahead on a new planet that was dried up as a desert and damn hot as one too.

Normally, Lance would be all whines about it (and he certainly was now), but Coran had worked some magic in the kitchen and essentially provided them with frozen goo popsicles. Lance had never been quite so delighted at having goo.

He and Keith were alone, on standby, tucked under a reclusive patch of shade made by one giant tree-cactus thing. Lance had made a point _not_ to watch Keith devour his popsicle, and savored his own. He only stole peeks halfway into his treat, giving the good ol’ smolder when he caught Keith finally ogling him.

Lance dragged his tongue along the popsicle, keeping in mind not to overdo it. He gave a little slurp before waving the refreshment. “Finished yours already, huh? I might be willing to share.”

Keith flicked his eyes up. “You’re not going to finish it?”

Lance raised a brow. “You doubt my genorisity?”

“Just a tad.” But Keith’s voice sounded kind of huskier than usual, and he was stepping up close.

Lance smiled lazily, brushing the tip of the popsicle along his lips. He gave it a little suck, then said, “So, what’ll it be?”

Keith’s hand wrapped around Lance’s, stilling the popsicle in place against his lips. Stunned by the heat of Keith’s hand (somehow discernible around all this other heat) and the firm grip it had, Lance could only hold his breath as Keith leaned down close.

His mouth closed around one side of the popsicle, sucking gently. Lance felt a sharp, electric kind of heat hearing the little noises Keith’s mouth made, eyes half-lidded, hand still solid around Lance’s. Their noses were scant centimeters apart, and if Lance put his mouth against the cold popsicle, their lips might have been able to brush.

But for all the electricity crackling under his skin, he was frozen still. Keith was gone as quick as he’d appeared, licking his lips in a way that made Lance pine.

“Thanks,” Keith said.

Lance certainly didn’t think it was Keith who should be doing the thanking.

After that incident, Lance suspected there was a weak link in his concocted plan. A handful of more events warranted the suspicion. Like each time he found a moment to implement a seduction or two, it reversed itself so that Lance was the one left breathless and craving.

Most recently, there had been what would have otherwise been a perfect chance to instill some need-to-kiss-Lance desire: during a sparring match that had come about because Lance (admittedly a little thorny that the operation wasn’t going as he wanted) made a comment about Keith’s lack of tact in a fight. It spiraled from there, ending with Lance pinned on his back (because damn it, Keith really did have the combat thing down.

They were both panting though, since Lance hadn’t made it an easy goal to trump him. Now, it awarded Lance all of Keith’s attention. It was an imposing thing, Keith hovered over him, hands tight around Lance’s wrist, the fabric of his gloves almost scratching. Lance felt if he played this right, he could have their positions reversed, and it’d be Keith spread out under him.

Good thing Lance was freshly pink in the face from that fight. He stared up at Keith, neither of them shrugging for the other to get off.

“Do you give?” Keith asked.

Lance lowered his gaze gradually to Keith’s mouth. He licked his own lips, playing it off as unintentional. “Not a chance,” he said. His eyes ticked up again, and he saw Keith’s focus was on his mouth.

“I have you pinned,” Keith said.

Lance’s mouth tilted upward. “Maybe I’m humoring you,” he said.

Keith snorted. “I have a good view. You’re not.”

“Do you like what you see then?”

Keith’s eyes widened. Lance wanted to preen. The pink in Keith’s face was intensifying, stretching up to his ears. Perfect.

The instant Lance felt Keith’s hands twitch, he kicked at Keith’s leg at the right angle to throw his balance off and flip them over. He planted a hand on either side of Keith’s head, and smirked down at Keith’s stunned expression.

“What about now?” Lance asked.

Keith inhaled deeply. He looked good under Lance, hair a little more disheveled than was normal, that pink flushed against the pale color of his skin, breathless. Lance expected the vision to pass fast, that Keith would react on some instinct that would have him tackling Lance (not that that was a bad image).

Keith didn’t do that. His eyes had somehow darkened until Lance realized they were dilated. Lance felt like he would never forget that look, like it could haunt his dreams. When Keith’s hand moved, Lance’s heart clamored. It rose, and actually came to rest along Lance’s jaw, first fingertips grazing the area before his palm nestled there.

Lance swallowed, eyes wide. He was extremely aware that their hips were close. Though, not as close as their faces. Keith was barely applying pressure, but Lance was obeying like a pup at the touch, drawn closer, closer still.

Shit, shit.

He could better make out Keith’s lashes, see the smallest move of his lips as he took in his sweet, even breaths. Inches apart from Lance’s, then centimeters, noses on the brink of bumping.

Lance licked his own lips slowly, wanting to close the deal. They were so close, and everything inside him was churning and begging him to tilt his head and steal Keith’s breath.

“Lance,” Keith said. It was low, deliciously sweet to Lance’s ears. He was lifting his head from the ground, that much closer now.

“Y-Yeah…?” Lance felt Keith’s other hand fisting in his shirt.

The world spun as Lance was thrown onto his back again. Dizzy from the arousal, it took Lance several, sobering heartbeats to realize that Keith had left the training deck.

Lance had laid there, splayed out, mulling over his life choices.

“I’m not crazy, right?” Lance asked a couple hours later. “Like, all this hero-ing with Voltron isn’t warping my mind somehow. I’m a pretty keen guy, right?”

"I know a particularly Green Paladin that would not agree,” Hunk said. “Especially after what you said when Pidge was helping your Lion’s shields.”

“What?”

“Just saying, Pidge never forgets.”

“Pidge is totally over that.”

“Like you’re totally over that kissing stuff.”

Not that Lance was proud to admit, but he was assured in his own abilities to seek counsel. Hypothetically, anyway. Unfortunately, Hunk wasn’t a genius for nothing, and he picked up on Lance’s predicament so quick it was almost laughable.

“Don’t call it _stuff_.”

“Why not?”

“It makes it sound trivial.”

“Not to break it to you, but given the whole ten-thousand years of Galra oppression thing going on, I’d say it’s pretty trivial. But yeah, I get it. It’s important to you.”

“It’s not important.”

“That’s why you’re still talking about it.” Hunk sighed. “And I thought you guys were like...I don’t know, way past that.” Hunk frowned deeply. “Not that I want to think about that. No offense, just--”

“Hunk, stop talking. Listen,” Lance leaned against the counter. “I swear, he’s like...messing with me.”

Hunk looked up from his latest dessert experiment. Lance had been encouraging particular ingredients that would reflect best against the color of his lips. “Keith.”

Lance felt a blush crawling up his neck. He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Keith.”

“Messing with you?”

“Um...yeah?”

Hunk wrinkled his nose. “Nah, doesn’t sound right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Keith is like,” Hunk trailed off, then grabbed some tiny vial with red flakes, “he’s like this spice. It’ll kick you right in the mouth with all its force. Unlike this extract,” he cradled another with a liquid, “which is amazingly subtle and you wouldn’t even realize it was in your food until someone told you it was in there.”

Lance stared at him. “Huh. Weirdly enough, I kind of understood that.”

“Keith and head games don’t match. I don’t think he even knows how to play them.”

Lance flopped against the counter, cheek deflating into a palm. “I guess so.”

“Just...you know, go for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tell him the truth. You want to kiss his face off and that’s that.”

Lance lowered his hand. Sometimes Hunk had a simplicity to his otherwise roundabout explanations that illustrated what kind of genius he really was. Feeling a boost of confidence from Hunk’s words, Lance rallied himself to do just that.

Tonight then.

The timing would be just right, like lady luck was paving the mood just so for Lance's intentions. It was exceptionally calm, where Allura wasn’t running them ragged with drills and Lance and Keith could catch alone time with a movie. It was becoming a kind of pastime. Lance hoped to add to it tonight.

Not to mention the fact that Keith had been acting like he wasn't being a tease motivated Lance that much more.

"What are we watching tonight?" Keith asked, settling in.

Lance’s arms spread along the back of the seat for a short while before one arm would find its way around Keith’s shoulders. He loved the few inches of height he had over Keith. "I think it's some chick flick." Not that he minded. Lance could appreciate old school chick flicks.

Whether he liked this particular one or not was moot, not when he was calculating the best method of confronting Keith. He’d hoped for the situation to arise naturally, but he was kind of okay with this (and _not_ because he was in anyway nervous about the kissing thing). Keith was tucked against him, his legs stretched out on the couch. Their fingers were twined like it was no big deal, even if it still put Lance’s heart into overdrive. 

Could Keith hear it? Was he really playing dumb about this tease thing? Maybe he'd picked up bettering flirt tact from some alien. God knows how many had put moves on him, after all. What if they totally kissed? What if he needed breath mints? No, he was good. He just had to tell Keith. Would he really? It seemed a good waste of his skills. Though they haven't exactly gotten him where he had hoped by now. Had Keith even kissed anyone before? Probably not. Could you tell if someone was a bad kisser if you've never kissed before? 

At some point in his contemplating, Lance missed when Keith had angled his head up. He looked down, unsure in this light if Keith’s pupils were blown wide or not.

“You okay?” Keith asked.

Lance didn’t want to say he wasn’t, all because he couldn’t get Keith’s mouth out of his head. And onto his mouth, specifically.

“Oh, yeah, always.” Lance wanted to look anywhere but Keith’s face, and yet stare at nothing else for the rest of the night. “Why?”

“You’re mumbling under your breath a lot.”

“No I’m not.”

Keith propped up slightly, frowning. “I can hear you, Lance.”

“Why would I be mumbling under my breath?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Keith wasn’t looking in his eyes though anymore. He was studying Lance’s mouth again. Not exactly at the right moment. Lance felt ill-prepared, and then told himself the likes of him were always prepared.

He couldn’t stop his blood rushing though; Keith was inching closer. His hand was creeping up Lance’s chest. And then, in a breath, it was gone.

“Agh!” Keith crossed his arms and glared at the screen.

Lance blinked a couple times. “Uh...are _you_ okay?”

“This is stupid.”

“What is?”

Keith side-glanced him. He shrugged, then exhaled hard. “If it takes this much work to...do stuff, then maybe it’s not worth it.”

Lance’s brain short-circuited, if only for a moment. “Wait, rewind that. Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

Lance narrowed an eye at him. “With me?”

Keith’s flush did him no favors. It was taking over his neck before he worked out a reply. “Well, yeah. What else?”

"So you did know!"

"Know what?"

Lance frowned. “What stuff were you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

“Nope, nuh-uh, you spill first.”

Keith’s answer, endearingly honest, still caught Lance off his guard: “I mean getting you to make a move.”

There went a few more circuits. Luckily, having been singed more than a handful of times by Pidge had its perks, bouncing-back wise. “Huh.” He sat up and scooted closer. “Okay, let’s take this slow. You’re trying to get _me_ to make a move?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “Is that why you’ve been playing with me?”

“It’s not playing. I’m serious.”

“No, no, I mean,” Lance huffed, gesturing with his hands like that’d help matter, “all that...you know, _stuff_ you were almost doing. That was you trying to get me to do it?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. He avoided Lance’s gaze. It was kind of cute. Seeing Keith almost embarrassed was a rarity as it was, so Lance soaked up the sight.

Lance's heart skipped. “Keith.”

“What?”

Lance waited the moment Keith looked at him. He reached out, nerves all jitters and blood swarming into his face. He palmed Keith’s face, coaxed him close, and then Keith was meeting him part of the way there.

Lance’s eyes shut when Keith’s mouth pressed against his.

The warmth of the pressure shot his heart rate up, but his muscles felt like they were melting. When Keith’s lips angled more securely against his, Lance lost his breath. It felt  like he was on a looping roller coaster, stomach flipping, heart soaring.

He was kissing Keith. Keith was kissing _him_.

Holy shit.

The moment was short, a brief meeting. Lance’s eyes opened partially, wanting to see Keith’s face. The expression he wore reignited all his courage. Heart fluttering, skin burning red, and bones feeling like they were made of goo, Lance kissed Keith again. And again. Finding new angles of his head that let him feel every groove of Keith's lips.

He’d seen plenty of movies, knew the basics of what made a kiss look good. In practice, Lance forgot about all of it, and lost himself in the way Keith’s hand crept of his shirt, found purchase on his neck. His fingertips grazed Lance’s neck. 

Lance shuddered, and willed his goo-arms to loop around Keith’s waist, tug him closer. He could barely hear the roar of his blood under the sweet, little sounds of their kiss. Of Keith’s breath. Lance had no clue if it looked hot, if this was an expert kiss, or the tentative, leisure press of amateurs. But he didn’t want to stop doing it.

He only pulled back because he was forgetting to breathe. Lance inhaled deeply. Keith’s arms were still around his neck, eyes dark and dreamy. Lance didn’t know how he was able to hold his gaze when he felt like he was going to combust.

Keith pressed his lips together as if he could feel Lance’s taste lingering. It was kind of hot.

“Stuff like that,” Keith said, soft and in a way that made Lance want to kiss him again.

“Good stuff,” Lance breathed. He dragged one hand along Keith’s arm, deciding it fit well around shoulders.

Keith smiled a little, and Lance took it in another kiss. “Why didn’t you sooner,” Lance asked, once he had some coherency to do so. It took a while.

“I was doing what Pidge suggested me to do.”

Lance sobered up. Talk about a way to splash cold water. “Sorry, did you just say something about Pidge?”

“Pidge told me I shouldn’t go for it. They said I should make you work for it, that that’s how it should be.”

“You talked about it to _Pidge_?”

“They kind of brought it up a few days ago,” Keith said.

“And you _listened_ to that advice?”

Keith shrugged one shoulder. “Pidge is smart.”

“Pidge is also a little shit that will step on your soul,” Lance said, meaning it as a compliment. He stopped, a thought hitting him from Hunk’s earlier words. _Pidge never forgets_. Without Keith needing to detail the events that led to Pidge’s oh-so helpful wisdom, Lance knew it all came down to that incident in Blue’s den.

“Hey, are you okay?” Keith was asking.

Lance shook his head rapidly. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking about revenge.”

Keith furrowed his brows. “Revenge?”

“Long story.”

“Lance."

"Yeah?"

"You don’t have something better to think about?”

Lance’s eyes lit up, the mood kicking up again. As if suddenly remembering their positions, he felt the flutered-ness seep back into his body, make his fingers twitch against the contours of Keith’s waist. It felt nice and firm.

“I do,” Lance said. Keith’s lip twitched. There was a raunchy pun about someone he could be ‘doing’ to, but his heart got clogged in his throat. It was okay, he told himself, because he didn’t need his voice right now.

Keith sank against him. Lance wanted to do this for hours.

When Keith chuckled against his mouth, Lance grunted around the kiss. He managed to ask, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s the longest time you’ve gone without talking.”

And then it struck Lance then, rendering him momentarily frozen as it clicked.

_One day there’s going to be a way that gets you to stop talking._

It couldn’t have been.

Could it?

Nah.

“That’s--” Lance started until Keith chased the words right off his tongue. With his own. Lance pretended the pathetic mewl of a sound did not come from him. 

He did, however, figure he could be fine being shut up like this.

Just this once, anyway.

 

**-X-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a throw-back to part 3. As awkward as these two can be with affection, I think they would give into temptation and just plow through that awkwardness to get some mouth-on-mouth action.
> 
> Also, feel free to imagine what Lance said to tick Pidge off that much.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this ridiculously tropey chapter that might have been a tiny bit inspired by that scene in 'Clueless' where Cher tries to seduce Christian. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and thanks in advance if you take time to comment!


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